Where I Stood
by soulful dreamer
Summary: Prue Halliwell is alive and well and living in New York City with her husband and children. When the opportunity comes up for her family to move to San Francisco, she begins to realize that something is off-that this beautiful life she knows may not be all that it seems.
1. Chapter One

"Mommy!" The little girl with dark hair runs towards me. I narrow my eyes and shake my head a bit. This is strange. Where was I before this?

"Hey sweet girl." I kneel down to look at my daughter. "What's wrong?" I can see the tears filling her eyes as she turns her attention to her scraped knee. "Awww. What happened?" Her bottom lip trembles.

"He pushed me," she said, turning her eyes back the way she came. A boy with blond hair stands in the doorway with a guilty look on his face. I feel my own expression harden a bit.

"Is that true?" I ask. He nods.

"But she called me-"

"Parker," I scold. "It doesn't matter what she called you. That's no reason to hurt her." I swoop my daughter into my arms and place her on the counter. "Let's take a look at this." I tug up the leg of her shorts to get a better look at her scraped up knee. I note Parker has left the room. My daughter sniffs as I touch a damp rag to the spot. "Nothing I can't fix up." I give her a smile as I tuck the dark hair out of her face. I turn from her and dig in the cabinets. When I find the ointment, I turn back to her.

"What is it Mommy?"

A smile crosses my face as I look at her. "It's medicine, Peyton." The little girl looks so much like me. But something doesn't feel right. I ignore that feeling and turn back to apply the medicine to her knee and then place a bandage there.

–

Evening falls over the city. The children are in bed as I perch myself in the window overlooking the New York skyline. I rest my head back against the window frame and exhale as the city lights come up. There's always been something about New York that I've loved. Perhaps it's how the city never sleeps. Perhaps it's like a concrete jungle. Or perhaps it's because it's easy to disappear in New York. It's easy to become a part of the crowd. Even though I know I've lived here practically my entire life, it doesn't feel like I have. I shake the thoughts away, wondering why all of the sudden I feel like this. This is my life. My two children.

The door to the apartment opens. I turn my head and a smile forms on my lips as I see him. Standing tall, dressed in his New York Police Department uniform, exhaustion evident in his eyes, but also a happiness in them. My husband. I feel an overwhelming amount of love for this man as I put my feet onto the floor. How long has it been since I've seen him? It was just this morning, wasn't it? Why does it feel like it's been a decade? He stands tall with dark blond hair, hair that our son inherited. His crystal blue eyes shine at me as I cross the room.

It feels like forever when I'm finally wrapped up in his arms. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, my heart beating wildly as I try to control my breathing. I know that he risks his life every day as a police officer, so I worry. But the fact that I feel so desperate to be close to him right now is the only thing I can think about. "Hey," he whispers as he buries his nose into my hair. "Are you okay?" I nod against him, my arms wrapped tightly around him, not wanting to let him go. Never wanting to let him go. "Hey," he says again. One of his hands tightens in my hair as he pulls me to look at him. There are tears in my eyes. I have no idea why. "What's going on?"

His voice is gentle. The exhaustion I saw in his eyes has been replaced with concern. "It's been a...weird day," I whisper as I look at him, committing his features to memory as though when I blink he'll be gone. "I just... well, I _missed_ you," I exhale, silent tears sliding down my cheeks. "I don't know why, but I just feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He smiles, his eyes glittering like they do when he's incandescently happy.

"It's been twelve hours," he pokes fun. He likes to do that to me.

I playfully shove his shoulder, but don't let him out of my arms. "It just feels longer than that. Like it's been years." I tip my chin toward him. "I love you, Andy," I whisper and press my lips against his. At first, it feels sloppy, like I haven't done it in a while, but soon, our bodies mesh together in perfect harmony. He picks me up into his arms and carries me to our bedroom, where the clothes end up on the floor.

–

Later, when the apartment building we live in has quieted, I rest my head on Andy's chest. His hand draws circles absentmindedly on my back. I pick at the hair on his chest, feeling completely exhausted but so fulfilled. We lay that way for a while, silently enjoying one another's company. I feel his lips press against the top of my head and I turn to look up at him from my spot against him. I smile. "What's come over you?" he asks, taking my hand into his and then kissing my palm. "Not that I'm complaining, but this morning, you weren't exactly pleased with me." I furrow my eyebrows. What's he talking about? He can see the confusion on my face. "Oh, come on, Prue, don't act like you weren't completely pissed when I left."

I lower my gaze, trying to remember this morning. I draw a blank. The first thing I remember that day is when Peyton came running in. I blink several times. "I...I don't remember," I say sheepishly, averting my eyes from his. I really don't remember.

"Hey," he whispers, tipping my head to look back up at him. He studies my eyes for a long moment. "You really don't remember?" I shake my head slowly.

"It was a weird day. I mean, the first thing I remember was Peyton coming in after Parker pushed her. She scraped her knee. Before that...it's sort of a blur," I say gently. "What was I angry about?"

Andy frowns. I can tell that he doesn't want to tell me. He opens his mouth and hesitates. Apparently it was something bad. I sit up, tugging the sheet around me as the chill of the room causes goosebumps to creep up on my skin. "I was offered a job in San Francisco. You don't want me to take it." I blink several times, trying to remember the conversation.

"But San Francisco is on the other side of the country," I whisper. Something about that city. San Francisco. Even though I know I've lived in New York my entire life, there's something inside of me that recognizes it, almost longs for it.

"That's what you said this morning," he said. I can see the hesitation in his eyes. He doesn't want to fight. I just can't find the words to express in that moment that fighting is the last thing I want to do with him. "Look, I don't have to take it," he concedes.

"What job is it?" I question, my eyes glazed over a bit as I try to think about San Francisco. An image of the bay bridge flashes before my eyes.

"Lead detective with San Francisco PD," he said, his hand trailing up and down my back. "It's more money, but it's also what-"

"It's your dream," I whisper, turning to look at him. "Why would I want to stop you from that?" His eyebrows lift and he shrugs his shoulders.

"New York is home. For both of us," he says. "I didn't expect to get offered the position. I-" I smile at him, trying to assure him with my eyes that we are a family. Obviously the conversation I don't remember from this morning was bad. As I look at him, I remember something. An image. A flash. Andy being cast backward into a grandfather clock. I feel my heart beating faster, my breath coming in shorter gasps. I can hear Andy as he sits up and takes my head in his hands. I can feel him right there next to me, but that image of him being thrown backward. It's tied to something in my brain that evokes a response of panic. I feel bile in my throat. I see him in front of me in the bed, but I can't respond to him.

Instead, I push myself naked from the bed and to our bathroom. I _know_ these things. But none of it feels familiar. Once the contents of my stomach are empty, I take a cold shower. Andy checks on me, and I tell him that I'm fine. But deep down, I know something is off. Something isn't right.

–

The move to San Francisco occurs two weeks later. My life becomes a blur of boxes and moving trucks and paperwork. I have to get the kids registered at their new school, which starts just a week after we get to San Francisco. The drive takes three days. By the end of it, both Parker and Peyton are going stir crazy. As San Francisco looms in the distance, I feel an odd sense of peace. Up until that moment, I was anxious about the new city. The good thing about my work is that I can do it anywhere.

We cross the bay bridge. Andy navigates to our neighborhood and parks in front of the house. The street slopes toward the south. Whereas someone from New York may find the hills of San Francisco a little daunting, I feel like, in some strange way, I've come home. "Prue," I hear Andy call my name. I turn to look at him. The kids have already run up to the front of the house. They're looking at me with big smiles on their face. This is the first time they've had a yard. Living in the big city doesn't allow a lot of room. My husband gives me a questioning glance as I walk toward him. "You okay?" He places his arm around my shoulders as we turn toward the house. It's a modest home, but it has more than enough room for us all.

"Yeah," I said, glancing up at him, then turning back to the house. "We're home." I breathe out a happy sigh, then we step toward our new home.

–

With the kids in school and Andy getting acquainted to his new role as a detective, I spend some time around the city. I start out downtown, passing through the streets lined with shops and restaurants. The sun is high in the sky before I feel that familiar grumble in my stomach. I stop at a restaurant called Quake. The entrance is a greenery lined arbor with a clever sign fashioned to look like broken concrete after an earthquake. A smile crosses my face as I walk in and make my way to the bar. I glance around, that familiar feeling there once more. "What can I get for you?" the bartender asks. I order a drink and something small for lunch. I have a few more hours before the kids get home from school. Once my food delivers, I stop the bartender.

"How long has this restaurant been here?"

He shrugs. "Probably twenty years. Why do you ask?" I shake my head.

"No reason." I turn back to my plate and pick at the food there. Everything about San Francisco feels familiar, even though I know I've never been here. Maybe this is the part of my life where everything falls into place. Maybe that's what that feeling is. I blink as I push the food around on my plate. Another image pops into my head. A diamond shaped neon sign. P3. I blink once more and the image is gone. It takes me a moment to gather my wits. Obviously my brain is playing tricks on me. "Excuse me." The bartender walks back over, looking at me expectantly. "I'm new to town. There wouldn't happen to be a place called P3?" I hesitate a bit.

The bartender pokes out his bottom lip slightly and shakes his head. "No." I nod, then turn my attention back to my food. "But-" I look up at him, feeling hopeful. "There used to be. It's just north of here. It was run by the Halliwells. One of them worked here before that. It was bought by someone else. It's called- Hang on." He reaches for a phone book—who still owns one of those in the day and age of cell phones? "Ah, Knockout. Do you want the address?"

I hesitate. The random image in my mind must have just been that—random. "No, thank you, though," I say as I take a few bills from my wallet and place them on the counter. I continue to traipse around the city. My feet are aching by the time I make it back to the house. It isn't until I hear the kids slam in the front door that I realize I fell asleep. "Hi, how was your first day?" I ask Peyton. Parker heads straight for the kitchen. Boys and their appetites, I suppose.

"There was a mean kid on the school bus," she said. "He pulled my hair." I frown. Peyton is small for her age, true. But that doesn't give anyone the right to pick on her.

"Did you tell the bus driver?" My daughter frowns and shakes her head. "Well, just ignore them. If it happens again, tell the driver. And if they don't do anything about it, then I will." And I mean it. My daughter won't be bullied. I just wish there was more I could do to help her. Short of calling another parent, I'm not sure what else I can do. I spend the next fifteen minutes getting them snacks and set up to do their homework. It's just a normal day in the life of Prue Trudeau.

I brush the hair from my eyes as I step out on the back porch. We have a beautiful view of the bay. How Andy managed to get this place is beyond me. I wrap my sweater around my shoulders a little more tightly as the breeze brushes against my face. It's a tell tale sign that cooler weather is coming. My hands rest on the railing of the porch. I _know_ that I love being a wife and mother. I _know_ that my family is important to me. But something's completely off.

I'm missing something. Or someone.


	2. Chapter Two

We fall into a routine. Rather, as much of a routine as we can when it comes to Andy's detective work. I still get the feeling that something isn't right at times. That I'm supposed to be somewhere else. But when I look at Andy as he reads a book to Peyton at night, I _know_ that this is where I'm supposed to be. I watch silently from the doorway as the words from the pages come to life with his voice. I see the droop in her eyes as she begins to fade away into unconsciousness. He sees me as he stands from the chair next to her bed and puts the book away. We share a smile as her bedroom door is closed. "Hi," I whisper to him. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me close. We share a gentle kiss.

"I missed you today," he says in an equal whisper.

A smile plasters itself across my face. "I missed you, too. I'm glad you made it home before she went to sleep." I nod my head toward our daughter's door. We head downstairs to the kitchen, where Andy eats his dinner and we talk about his day.

"There was a lull in crime here over the last couple of years," Andy says, shaking his head. "It's strange. Not long before I was offered the job, they said they had a spike. Gang activity, murders. We have this one case where the victims have this weird symbol carved into their wrists." I can see him visibly shiver at the thought.

"Well, all the better that you're here now to solve the cases," I say with a smile. I sip my wine and prop my head up on my hand as the room falls into silence. "You're happy here, right?" I question, picking my head up to look at him. Andy gives me a quizzical glance.

"Of course. Aren't you?" he asks, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

I turn my eyes down to my wine glass, my finger absentmindedly tracing the rim of it. "Yeah," I say as I bring my eyes back to look at him.

"You don't sound so convincing." He takes my hand into his own and gives a gentle squeeze. "I know it was a big deal to move back from New York." I cock my head to the side a bit. He gives an uneasy laugh as I narrow my eyes. "What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing." My eyes glance down at the wine and back at him. "Maybe I just misheard you. I thought you said something about moving _back_ from New York." He shakes his head. "Must be the wine."

"Must be." He stands and crosses to the sink to put his dishes down. I'm right behind him, as I always am, to get those washed so I don't have to worry about them later. As I reach for the faucet, he grabs my wrist. "It can wait," he says. I shake my head. He knows my habits. I like to make sure the house is clean, especially before bed. But this time, he won't concede. His arms wrap around me, pulling my tall frame into his strong arms. I inhale his scent deeply, sandalwood. It reminds me of when we were younger. We just so happened to be the lucky ones. High school sweethearts turned successful married couple.

Only... That doesn't seem right.

"Andy," I say as I try to keep my head in the right place. It's always easy to fall into his arms and forget the rest of my troubles, especially at the end of a long day. Right now, I need to tell him. "Does this feel right to you?"

By the expression on his face, I can tell he's confused. "Of course, it does." He brushes the loose strand of hair out of my face. "Why? It doesn't to you?" I can't tell if he gets what I'm asking. "We've been married for almost ten years. We dated four years before that." He thinks I'm talking about us.

"That's not what I mean," I say as I pull out of his arms and turn my back to him. I can't think quite right when we're wrapped up together. "I mean, does this, our life, your work, all of it, feel right to you?"

"What are you getting at, Prue?" Andy questions. I sigh, trying to rid myself of the frustration.

"Sometimes, I just have this feeling about things. That something isn't right. Like I _know_ certain things. But I question if they're real." I study his face, trying to see if he's felt that way. "Like just a second ago, when you said something about moving back _from_ New York. Like we've lived here before."

Andy shakes his head. "That's a ridiculous thought. We lived in New York our whole lives."

"I _know_ that-" I stop, throwing my hands up because I'm not sure that I could express what I'm trying to say. He's not getting it. Maybe this is completely real for him and he's never once questioned it. "I wish I could explain it." I see the compassion on his face. Usually, there's no problem when it comes to my husband understanding me. Sometimes we are so close that our old friends in New York thought that we were the same person. But right now, Andy feels like the farthest person away from me.

"I think maybe we need some time for us." His words snap me from my thoughts. "You've been doing so much around here, with the kids and the move. I've been so busy with work. We should have a night out. Grab some dinner. Be a couple instead of parents for a night." I feel his arms as they wrap around me.

His presence comforts me. He's my anchor. He always has been. I put my arms around his neck and look up at him. "Okay," I say gently. "I'll get a sitter." We share a smile and then kiss. I'm so lost to Andy Trudeau. Maybe it is all in my head. Maybe the things that I know are real. I just can't let my husband think that I'm crazy. Because I'm not. Maybe he's right. I'm just feeling off because of stress. He's my voice of reason.

–

I have managed to make friends with the young woman who lives next door. She and her husband are in their early twenties and have no children. They happily agree to babysit for us for the night. Andy gets home from work just as I'm finishing up. I wear his favorite red dress. Having children never really affected my figure. I'm still tall and lean like I was in school. I'm one of the lucky ones, for sure. His eyes roam over me, a grin spreads across his face as I come into view. "Parker, Peyton!" I call up the stairs. Peyton comes bounding down and Andy hauls her up into his arms, to which she squeals with delight. Parker, who is barely two years older, comes down with less enthusiasm. "I want you both on your best behavior, do you hear me?"

Parker nods, and Peyton squeals once more as Andy tickles her belly. "Mr. and Mrs. Edwards know what time you're supposed to be in bed. So no tricks." I narrow my eyes playfully at Parker. I take his chin into my hand and kiss him on the forehead. His sullen expression softens and he smiles at me. I give him a wink. With a final kiss to my daughter, we leave the house. It feels weird, honestly, to be going out with my husband. We haven't really had a date night since before Peyton was born. Both Andy and I had no other family. As only children, when our parents passed, we were all the other had. It was nice of the neighbors to babysit. That was one thing in New York that we surely didn't have. Nice neighbors just didn't happen in the big city. But now, in the suburbs of San Francisco, it's almost like Mayberry.

We head to dinner. Conversation is routine. "Look at us," I say, shaking my head and giving a smile. "We're trying to be a couple and yet all we talk about is the kids." My eyes glimmer at him.

"We're hopeless," Andy says. "Guess we can't just be a couple." I lean over and wipe some of the sauce from his dinner from the corner of his mouth. He captures my hand and plants a kiss on my palm, a simple act that has always showed me just how much he loves me. He gives my hand a squeeze, but doesn't let it go. In fact, he holds my hand for pretty much the rest of dinner. When the waiter offers dessert, I shake my head.

"I couldn't eat another thing if I wanted to," I admit. The food was good, but very rich. I'm not used to that type of food. The waiter leaves to get the check and I turned to Andy. "So, husband, what's next?" I ask him.

He turns to me, a playful smile on his lips. "Dancing," he says matter-of-factly. I quirk my eyebrows at him.

"Oh, really?" I question with a grin on my face, knowing that I should make a comment about how we haven't danced together since our wedding. But I stop. Our wedding. I blink a few times, searching my head for the memory. The images don't come. Andy's speaking, but his words aren't registering. We got married. I know this. But I can't remember it.

"Prue?" he questioned, his happy expression from a moment ago gone. I shake my head and give him a smile. "Are you ready?" I nod and as soon as his back is turned, my smile drops. How do I not remember our wedding? That's one thing every girl should remember the details. What song they danced to, what kind of cake they had. If there were any embarrassing stories about slutty wedding sex. All that remains is a big blank.

As we climb into the car, I ask Andy, "Where are we going anyway?"

Absentmindedly, he replies, "Knockout."

–

I'm a little on edge as Andy parks the car. He senses that as he takes my hand into his own. It comforts me as we walk toward the line of people waiting at the door. I glance around, looking for the sign I saw in my head. Even though it's been a matter of weeks since that day in that restaurant, the image is still burned into my memory. The bouncer looks up and makes eye contact with me. He waves a hand forward. I glance over my shoulder to see if he's motioning to someone else. When I turn back, he motions again. I look at Andy and shrug my shoulders, then we walk forward. The man smiles at me and nods us in.

"What was that?" Andy asks over the loud music as we walk down the stairs that lead into the club. My hand rests gently on the railing as my eyes take in the place. It's dark, but I can make out the bar in the center of the room, a small stage off to the right, and a lot of tables and sitting areas around the place. The music is loud and the place is pretty popular.

"I don't know," I say in his ear as we reach the main floor. He guides me to the bar and orders our drinks. We find a table and my eyes look about the room, taking it all in. Part of me is searching though. For what? I don't know. I feel Andy's hand grab mine and his breath on my neck as he leans in. The edges of my mouth quirk upward and I turn to look at him.

"What's on your mind, Mrs. Trudeau?" He asks. I just give him a coy smile. I take a deep sip of my drink, almost enjoying the way the liquor slides down my throat. I haven't felt like this in a long time. Most of the last decade, I've been a wife and mother. I haven't really had much time to be a fun loving free spirit like I was when I was younger. Not that I did anything unreasonable, but I did enjoy going out and getting a little tipsy, ending up in some guy's bed at the end of the night. I blush a little as I look at Andy. It was his bed I ended up in on those nights.

"Just remembering when we used to go out before we got married," I say, my hand resting on his thigh and giving it a quick squeeze. His eyebrows quirk upward.

Andy smirks and tips his head up a bit, his eyes narrowing playfully. "And what are you remembering about it?"

"How I used to end up in your bed at the end of the night. My mother wanted to kill me for not coming home until the sun was up the next morning." My gaze is steady on him, but the words feel empty. I shrug the feeling away and tip my head up at him, leaning in a bit as though I'm going to kiss him but stopping short. "Oh, wait, or was that Chris Tegalar's bed?" I smirk and pull my head back from his. His expression drops, but he catches on to the fact that I'm toying with him. I squeeze his leg again.

My husband leans in, planting a kiss on the soft spot of my neck beneath my ear. I have to bite my bottom lip to stifle a gasp. "Be careful, Mrs. Trudeau, or I might have to take you to one of the back rooms," he said in a low, promising voice. I grin at him, and I am about to take him up on his offer when something captures my attention. It's a fleeting moment. On a couch across the room, I see a younger version of myself sitting next to a blonde man with broad shoulders and a goofy smile. I blink and the image disappears. Instead, there are a couple of girls sitting there chatting animatedly. "You okay?"

My expression dropped, but I fix it now, turning to look at Andy. "Let's dance." I finish my drink and try to shake the image from my head. I grab his hand and we make our way onto the dance floor. I just want to forget those feelings, those images. I want to lose myself in my husband tonight in a way that I haven't lost myself in him for a long time. We dance. Slow dances, fast dances. It doesn't even matter that we're off beat, it's just the two of us in this crowded room. Just like it's been the two of us practically our entire lives. The place is emptying out as I realize just how late it is. I sit at the bar; I'm drinking water to sober up a bit before we head home.

"Ready to go?" Andy asks me as he comes back from the bathroom. I take his hand and smile, then follow him out. It's really late, much later than we've been out in a long time.

"Oh, the kids are going to be up early," I grumbled playfully as I stumble a bit in my heels. I had too much to drink, but at least my hazy vision has blocked out any chance of hallucinating anything else. The car is about twenty feet ahead of us. That's when I hear a female voice screaming from the alleyway. Andy hears it too. He grabs his gun from the back of his jeans and we sprint toward the source of the noise. I freeze as I see a woman being held against a wall by two other women. A third has her mouth at the victim's throat. "Is she biting her?!" I gasp loudly and freeze.

"Put your hands up!" Andy says, his gun trained on the trio. They release the woman, who falls to the ground. The three women, dressed in what appear to be chiffon dresses, turn to them.

"So it's true." It's dark in the alleyway, but I'm pretty sure these women have fangs. They don't appear phased by Andy's gun. Instead, their attention is on me. "The eldest Charmed One has returned." I furrow my eyebrows, the confusion evident on my face. "Prue, isn't it?" I furrow my eyebrows. I want to run. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible. The way they're looking at me is scary. My eyes look toward the girl who is now a crumpled heap on the ground.

"Hands up!" he orders again. The woman merely laughs. She advances on us—well, me. That's when Andy's gun goes off. The women disappear. I notice a trio of bats in the air. Surely they aren't-? I don't even allow myself the thought.

"Andy," I say and then rush over toward the woman on the ground. There is blood all over her neck. I grab her wrist to check for a pulse. When I don't find it, I look up at my husband. He's already on his phone calling for help. We don't speak of what those women said. We give our statements about the three women attacking her. No matter how much alcohol I may have had in my system from earlier, I am stone cold sober now.

The drive home is silent. I keep my hands in my lap gripped together. _The eldest Charmed One has returned._ What does that mean? What's a Charmed One? Once we get home, we thank the neighbors and lock up the house. After the way those women looked at me, I'm not taking any chances at them finding us. Andy hasn't asked me what they were talking about. He looked at me several times in the car like he wanted to, but he didn't. After I've showered and laid down in the bed, Andy joins me. We turn out the lights and I try to settle into sleep. "What the hell was that?" he asks into the silence of the room.

I frown and run a hand through my still wet hair. I shake my head. "I don't know," I admit, exhaling, feeling the weight of exhaustion on my shoulders.

I feel him shift in the bed beside me. His bedside lamp turns on and the room is illuminated as he turns on his side to look at me. "You don't know?" Andy questions. I can't tell if his tone is accusatory or genuinely baffled. I shake my head as I look at him, trying to conceal the hurt in my eyes.

"What are you trying to say?" I question, sitting up in the bed. It's late. I'm exhausted. I've just seen a dead body, and been recognized by some creepy women. I really don't want to be having this conversation right now.

"Those women attacked that girl. They bit her neck. And they happen to know your name."

"I didn't hear a question in that," I say, feeling my cheeks flush. My expression is hard. This is the last thing that I wanted tonight.

"It's just odd."

"You're damn right it's odd, Andy, but for you to sit here and insinuate-"

"I'm not insinuating anything!" He yells.

I throw the blankets from my legs and plant my feet on the floor. "I don't know what the hell is going on. I don't know how those women knew my name. I don't know what the hell they did to that girl." I shake my head and stand up. "And right now, I can't take you accusing me of-of whatever you're accusing me of!"

Andy's face softens. I see his shoulders relax. "I'm sorry," he says, patting my spot on the bed. He shakes his head. "I don't know what I was trying to say. It was just weird." I nod and cross my arms over my chest. "Come back to bed."

Shaking my head, I say, "You know, I don't think I will. The kids are going to be up in a couple of hours and I just—I can't." I soften my own expression. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." I grab my robe then exit the room. My mind was already whirling with a thousand questions, and for Andy to talk to me like that...he's never talked to me like that before. At least not that I remember. I clean up the kitchen from the night before and then sit down on the sofa in the living room. I flip through the early morning channels on the television, infomercials. I hate infomercials.

But even if there was something good on TV, I'm not sure that I could focus on it anyway. The look in they eyes of that woman. She seemed confident, but there was a fear there. Like she had a reason to be afraid of me. I shake my head as I think about it. What were they doing to that woman anyway? Biting her neck? What kind of sick people do that? And what is a Charmed One? I search the term on my phone, but it has no results.

Since New York, I've had feelings of things that I know, but _don't_ know. I've had random images pop into my mind. I've seen things... All of those were in my head. Tonight, something actually happened. Something that wasn't in my head. I remember that moment from the bar earlier at dinner, when I couldn't remember our wedding. I stand up and cross to the mantle where our family photos are. I haven't really looked at them in a while. There are photos of us now, the family, our children. But no one else. Not my immediate family nor Andy's. I dig through the cabinets in search of photo albums. All of the photos there are recent.

When Andy comes down from our bedroom, there's a mess of things in the living room. "What are you doing?" he asks. I stop, my chest heaving in and out as I look at him.

"We have no wedding photos," I say as I push myself to stand. He furrows his eyebrows at me and crosses over.

"What? Of course we do." Andy surveys the mess on the floor and then turns towards the photos on the mantle and walls.

"No, Andy, we don't. And we don't have any baby photos of the kids. And nothing of my parents or yours. Nothing. It's like our lives didn't exist before-" I pause, trying to think back. "Before that day, in New York."


	3. Chapter Three

"What?" Andy asks incredulously. "Of course, we existed before—What day?" This is very overwhelming. Coming to the realization that something is off in my life is making my mind work a hundred miles a minute. I look at him, trying to read what is going on in his head. I think back to that day in New York. How I couldn't remember what I was doing in just the seconds before. How even though I recognized Peyton as my daughter, it just felt off. I remember Andy coming home that night and being so desperate to be close to him, as though I hadn't been close to him in years. I remember everything _since_ that day.

"The night you came home. When you told me about the job here." I run my hands through my hair, gripping onto it a little harder than I needed to, trying to remind myself that this is my reality. That what I see before me is real. It's not a dream. I feel Andy's eyes on me as I go through a photo album. "See? There's pictures of the kids once we got here, playing in the yard, and from the apartment in New York, but nothing from-" I can feel a panic attack rising. I don't usually get them. At least I don't think I do. My hands grip at the robe around my chest. I stand up and look wildly about the room. I need something, anything to make me feel like what I've discovered isn't true.

Instead, I feel Andy's hands grab my shoulders to steady me. I look up into his light eyes. He's concerned. He doesn't speak for a long moment. But staring into those eyes, I feel my breathing even out. My heart begins to slow. My husband. My anchor. My soulmate. I feel the tears come quickly. I press my palms against my eyes, not wanting to let them overflow. His hands rub my shoulders gently as I lean forward, burying my face in his chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head. "They could have gotten lost in the move," he says calmly. "We had a lot of stuff to bring cross country. Maybe it's in one of the boxes in the attic?"

I know this is the logical explanation. I know it's very possible that they could have gotten lost. I thought I unpacked everything, but maybe I was wrong. I focus on my breathing, on the sound of his heart thumping against his chest. He presses his lips to the top of my head and folds me in his arms. Out of everything that I've felt since that day, the one thing that I know to be true and real is my love for my husband. The moments may be unclear, but I know that Andy Trudeau is the man I've always loved and always will love. That's why he's able to calm me. To bring me back to where I need to be.

"Mom?" I hear Parker's voice from the stairway. I pick my head up and turn away from him so he won't see the tears on my cheeks.

"Good morning honey," I say carefully, leaning down so I can pick up the mess I made.

"What happened?" my son questions.

Thank God for Andy Trudeau. "Mom and I were going through some stuff. Trying to clean out. Why don't you go brush your teeth. I'll cook breakfast." Parker nods and heads back up the stairs. Andy puts a hand on my back and takes the albums from my hands. He presses his lips to my temple. "I'll pick all of this up. Go get some sleep. You had a long night." His tone is gentle, but there's a finality to it. He won't take my argument. But he's not upset with me. I don't even protest. I feel exhaustion take over me as I head up the stairs to our bedroom.

I don't even remember fading into sleep.

–

When I wake up, I feel a small, warm body cuddled up next to me. I pick up my head, seeing only a mess of dark hair peeking out from the edge of the blankets. A smile crosses my face as I reach a hand out to her. I rub her back through the blankets and feel her stir beside me. "Morning," I say sleepily as her head pokes out from beneath the covers. She blinks a few times and stares at me.

"Daddy said you weren't feeling good," Peyton states.

"Oh? He did, did he?" I brush my hair back with my fingers and roll onto my side to look at her.

She nods. "Mhmm. Are you feeling better?" I smile and nod, cupping her cheek with my hand. "Good. You missed breakfast. Daddy said not to wake you up, but I didn't think you would want to miss lunch, too." A grumble resounds deep in my stomach.

"No, I suppose not," I say quietly as I move the blankets out of my way and then climb out of the bed. "C'mon." I offer my hand to Peyton, but she bounds from the bed and out of the room before I can even think of catching her. Her squeals can be heard through the house. She had always been the easy child. Parker wasn't bad, necessarily, but he was a bit moodier. He isn't even a teenager and already we're dealing with mood swings! I smile at the thought and walk slowly down the stairs. I can hear my daughter giggling in the kitchen.

As I walk in, Andy is making a grilled cheese, but he has his right arm extended with a cup of coffee being offered. "You're a god," I mutter as I take the cup. I lean toward him, pressing my lips against his chastely. We try to be a good example in front of the kids. Parker is at the table doing homework.

"I know," Andy replies, giving me a quick smile before flipping the grilled cheese in the pan. He glances up at me briefly. "You feeling better?"

I shrug. Am I feeling better? I really can't say. I don't feel as shaken as I did last night about the women in the alleyway. But do I feel better about not being able to find wedding photos or pictures of the kids as babies? No. Absolutely not. I don't want to tell him that, though. He might have me committed. "Thank you for covering in front of Parker," I say in a low voice as I lean against the counter near the stove.

Andy doesn't look at me. "He didn't need to see that," he says quietly. "Besides, we're a team." I smile briefly, but I can tell that he's still disturbed by the events of the last twelve hours. He finishes fixing lunch and serves it to the kids. I finish my cup of coffee and pour another, effectively draining the pot. Andy busies himself with the dishes. I place a hand on his forearm.

"Hey, I'll get it," I say carefully. He shakes his head, focusing his eyes on the task at hand. "Parker, Peyton-" I call, looking over at them at the table. "Why don't you take your lunch into the living room. You can eat in front of the TV. Just this _once_." I smile at them. They both practically bound out of the kitchen. I turn back to Andy, seeing the tension in his muscles. "Can we talk?" I ask. He drops the sponge from his hands and turns off the water, turning to look at me.

"Let's talk," he says a little more harshly than I expected. I know he's tired and frustrated with my behavior. I can sense on a deeper level that those women concerned him. The fact that they knew me. It has affected him more deeply than he initially let on.

"I'm sorry," I say as I set down my coffee on the counter. "I think maybe you're right. All of the stress of the move and not having a lot of time for us.. Then what happened last night. It's all just boggling me down and I'm trying hard to keep my head right." He doesn't speak. I don't like it when he doesn't speak. My gaze falters. "Say something." I bring my eyes up to his, imploring him to speak. "Please."

Andy shakes his head. "I'm the analytic one. The one who thinks about things as they are. Facts. Reasoning. You feel things. Call it women's intuition... I can't blame you for what you feel." He finally brings his eyes to look up at me. "It's part of what I have always loved about you." I smile meekly. "I believe that you really think something is up. But until we have more solid proof on it... I can't believe that. Does that make sense?" I nod.

While I know that Andy and I have been through everything together... On this, I know I'm alone.

–

Monday comes. Everyone goes about their own way. I search the attic. I find a few boxes, but not what I was looking for. I still can't find pictures that should exist. If they got lost in the move, then this is all for nothing, but I'll never really know. I find myself moping around the house as the week presses on. So, instead of sitting around on Wednesday afternoon, I get dressed and grab my camera. I've explored a lot of places around San Francisco since we moved. But today, I'm not exploring.

It's the middle of the afternoon, so I don't expect many people to be around a night club. I park in the same area we did just two nights ago. It's daylight, so I don't feel so uneasy. Even so, I glance around cautiously as I step out of the car, camera in hand. I walk slowly toward the side of the building, the site of that girl's murder, which is sectioned off by police tape. While this is the last place I know I should be, I can't erase that night from my mind. Seeing those women, that curious look in their eye. They were obviously dangerous, but there was a flicker of fear in the one who spoke to me. She recognized me. Called me a Charmed One. Whatever that is.

I duck beneath the tape and try to memorize my surroundings. As I approach the place where the girl's body was less than forty eight hours ago, I lift my camera to my eye and snap a photo. I know that the police are adept at their jobs, but if there's anything they're missing, I plan on finding it. Something through the lens catches my eye. It's tucked in a crevice between the brick wall and concrete ground. I grab a tissue from my pocket and wedge it out. The sunlight causes it to shimmer in my hand. It's a tear drop shaped jewel on a rather exquisite gold chain. The stone is a ruby, which looks a lot like the color of those women's dresses. I glance around to see if anyone is watching. Luckily, I am alone. I wrap the necklace in the tissue and tuck it into my jeans' pocket to examine further later. I brush the hair from my face and take a photo of the spot I extracted it from.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I'm not alone. I don't know how I know that. I can sense someone behind me. I catch a figure out of my peripheral vision. "I didn't want to believe it was true." The man's voice is almost playful. I know that voice. I furrow my eyebrows as I turn to look at the man. He's as tall as Andy, with dark hair, narrow shoulders, and a curious expression on his face. "Well that's a look I'm used to." The sarcasm drips from his words.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" I question, stowing my camera in my bag quickly.

The man's features soften. He laughs. A hearty, almost gleeful laugh. "The vampires told me that you didn't recognize them. But this? This is too good." He puts his hands together in a praying fashion. "Thank you, Elders. You're making this easy for me."

"You still haven't explained yourself," I say, feeling my frustration bubble. Vampires? That's just science fiction, right?

"Oh, I don't intend to," he said, an amused expression on his face. I feel the urge to get physically violent with this man. The urge frightens me for a moment. He begins to walk in a slow circle around me. "You look good, Prue. I dare say you haven't aged a day in thirteen years." I turn to face him, afraid of what will happen if I let him get behind me. I can feel my expression hardening. "I sometimes wonder if I picked the right sister."

I shake my head. "Sister?" The man practically bounces up and down with joy.

He avoids my question. "You know, you and I once spent some time together in the old west. Maybe that'll jog your memory?" He puts a hand on my shoulder. I recoil and shove his hand away. The close proximity of him to me does pull a memory forward. The man before me, dressed in old west clothing. But, this time, it's more than just an image. I feel things. I feel this determined panic. That there's someone or something I'm trying to save. It's gone almost as quickly as it came. The man studies my expression. "No? Nothing?" He shakes his head. "I thought I made a better impression on you, Prue." He turns his back and takes several steps away from me.

Deciding the conversation is over, I turn to head back toward the car. I should have known he wouldn't let me go that easily. I hear a crackle in the air. It sounds like the night's sky in the moments before lightning strikes. "Maybe this will get the job done." I hear the low grumble of his voice and turn around suddenly to see a bright ball of...something...flying toward me. I recoil away, but not before it grazes my shoulder. I'm knocked to the ground, an intense burning sensation causing me to gasp. I don't have time to look down to assess it. I hear the sound again.

As it starts flying toward me, I don't recoil. There's something bubbling in my gut. I'm at my feet in barely a moment and then I flick my hand forward, as though I'm trying to avert it's course. My eyes widen as the ball of energy changes direction and crashes into the brick wall, leaving nothing more than a charred spot behind. I turn my eyes back to the man, whose own eyes widen. He fades from sight, almost as though his image is shimmering. Then he is gone.

What the hell just happened?

–

I should go to the hospital. I should take it to a professional to have it checked out and get proper healing. But my mind begins to burn with the questions I'll be asked. I'm not a good liar; I've never been good at lying. My mind flashes back to that day in New York, when Peyton scraped her knee. It was healed by the next morning after I used my homemade cream. That's my best option. I speed home, pretty sure I've run a couple of stop signs in the process. But, no one saw me, so that's okay, right? I reach over to the passenger seat to grab my camera bag as soon as I park in the driveway, but feel nothing there. I look over. My camera bag is gone.

By the time I push open the door, my shoulder is stinging and I'm trying not to panic. My arm hangs limply as I press forward into the kitchen. I drop my keys on the counter and begin rifling through the cabinets. Soon enough, I have a spread on the counter of ointment, a wet rag, and bandages. I suck in a deep breath as the rag wipes away the wound. It wasn't that deep, but it's definitely an ugly spot. How the hell am I going to explain this to Andy?

Once the kids get off of the bus, I've changed into a different shirt and shoved the burnt one to the bottom of the laundry basket. I do the washing, so I'm not worried about Andy finding it. I get Peyton set up with a snack, but Parker is no where to be found. "As soon as you finish that, get ready to do your homework." Peyton grumbles as I plant a kiss on top of her head. The movement makes me cringe, but she doesn't notice, which is for the best. "I'm going to get your brother, okay?" I walk from the kitchen and up the stairs, humming a familiar tune. I knock on his door twice and then push it open.

"What?" Parker questions, not even picking his head up from his pillow.

I furrow my eyebrows and place a hand on my hip. "What's with the attitude mister?" I question. He shrugs his shoulders. While he's never been like Peyton when it comes to affection, I don't remember a time when my son hasn't talked to me. I cross the room and sit on the edge of his bed.

"Mom," he grumbles.

"Hey, I'm not leaving this room until you tell me what's wrong." Parker covers his face with a pillow, which I wrangle out of his grasp. He heaves a sigh and stares at me.

When he realizes that I'm not going to give in, he says, "I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping well." I frown.

"Why didn't you come get me or Dad if you were having trouble sleeping?" I question. Peyton wouldn't have hesitated to climb in the bed with us if she was having problems sleeping.

"It's just dreams." His tone hints that it's not important, but I can see the exhaustion in his eyes. It's one that I see in the mirror sometimes when I'm overwhelmed.

"Why don't you tell me about them?" I suggest, my features softening as I place a hand on his belly. He shakes his head.

"I just want to sleep," Parker admits.

Sighing, I nod. "Okay, homework?"

"Did it on the bus."

When did my son get to be so independent? I remember just yesterday... "Okay," I concede. "Get some sleep. But, promise me. If you have any more nightmares, come and get me or Dad." He doesn't respond. "Okay?" I question, tickling his stomach.

"Okay, okay. I promise!" Parker says while trying to hide a smile.

I help Peyton with her homework and get dinner done. She eats, bathes, and then settles in to watch a little TV with me. I glance at the clock. It's getting late. "Alright munchkin, bedtime." I flip off the TV and see that familiar pout on her face.

"But Daddy isn't home to read to me." She crosses her arms on her chest, a sign that she doesn't want to move from the couch. Her bottom lip is puckered out.

"Well, he can't be home every night. Remember New York? When he wasn't home all day?" She nods. "It's like that. Just not every day." She doesn't want to move.

"Daddy promised." I'm about to give in and let her watch TV until she falls asleep. I'm too tired to fight her tonight.

"Yes, he did," comes a voice from the foyer. I look up, a smile forming on my face. Just in time. I watch my daughter's face light up as she bounds from the couch and to her father. "Head upstairs and pick out a book." He plants a kiss on her temple and puts her back on the floor. She walks out of the room and up the stairs.

"Hi," I say with a smile, but he doesn't smile back. Instead, he fidgets with his briefcase, then places a black bag on the coffee table in front of me. He turns and walks after Peyton. I look down and pick up the bag, feeling the charred ends of the strap as I realize what it is.

My camera bag.


	4. Chapter Four

I'm not sure how I should feel. Panic seems to come to mind, but why would I need to panic? It's not like I was really hiding anything from Andy. I just didn't tell him I had intentions of going back there. Besides, it's not like my husband to do anything rash. I glance over my shoulder as I stand up from my spot on the couch, thinking over what to tell him. I won't lie. He obviously knew I was there. But how do I explain what happened there today? He wouldn't believe me, even if the burns on my shoulder say otherwise. I carry the charred camera bag into the kitchen, setting it gently on the counter, my eyes low as I remembered the look on that man's face. Who was he?

_I sometimes wonder if I picked the right sister.._

My head shakes back and forth as my eyes glaze over, thinking about the image that flashed before my face. The one of him in the western gear. It didn't make any sense, none of it did. Sister? I know that I don't have any sisters. Although in whatever world I'm in now, I know that I always wanted them. Being an only child wasn't fun for neither myself nor Andy. We both always wanted a house full of children. At least that's what I think we want.

"So." Andy's voice makes me jump. I didn't hear him come into the kitchen. I look up, guilt obviously written on my face, even though I really have nothing to be guilty about. "Want to tell me why you went back to the scene of a crime where there's an active investigation ongoing?" Our last conversation runs through my mind. I conceded. I told him that maybe he was right. Maybe it was just stress, but after today, I know it's much more than that.

I just don't know what.

My shoulders shrug. "I couldn't get that night out of my head. Sitting around here, I didn't have anything better to do. I wanted to face it head on."

His arms cross over his chest. "And what did you find?" I bite my bottom lip, remembering the way that ball of energy hit my shoulder, the sound of my skin sizzling, the smell of charred flesh. I can still feel it pulsing. When I don't answer, he takes a hesitant step in my direction. "Because that bag-" He points to it on the counter. "-was burned. I should have turned that in as evidence. Only, I know it wasn't a part of the crime scene from the other night." What do I say? How can I explain this to him to make him understand? It didn't go so well for me last time. I mirror his actions, my own arms crossing quickly over my chest and my chin sticking out a bit. Defiant. My mother hated that trait about me.

"Nothing," I say.

"And the bag?" he quirks an eyebrow at me. I don't like this. Andy and I never fight. We always find a way to talk to one another, especially about the hard stuff. I shrug. "Damnit, Prue. Tell me what happened." His tone is hard, but his volume remains low.

I feel hot tears welling in my eyes. He'll think I'm crazy. I know he will. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I mumble as I turn my eyes to look away from him. I hear him give an exasperated sigh.

"And what if I told you the girl that got attacked there the other night had the same mark on her hand? The one the rest of my victims have had?" he questions. That gets my attention. I look back at him, my eyebrows furrowed. I shake my head.

"But she was attacked by vam-"

"Vampires?" Andy finishes. I sigh. It feels like he's mocking me. "So, first you think that something's off with our life. Now you're thinking that there are vampires in the city?"

"Well how the hell else do you explain that girl getting _bitten_ by those women? And how the hell do you explain this?!" I rip down the shoulder of my shirt and pull the bandage away, showing the wound. I hiss between my lips as the air beats down on the wound. His eyes widen, and his hard stance waivers. All I see in his eyes are concern as he crosses to me. He places a hand on my arm and pulls me further into the light.

"Prue, what happened?!" he questions in an exasperated voice.

I shake my head, trying to bite back my fear and confusion of the world around me. "There was a man there. He knew me. Just like those women. He didn't tell me who he was. He attacked me with this-" I look up at my husband, fear in my eyes because I'm unsure of how he'll react. I shake my head. "I don't know what it was. But it hurts, okay?"

Andy's eyes are on the wound. "And you're sure you'd never seen him before?" He finally brings his eyes up to mine. They are softer. My head shakes once more.

"I knew him, too. I just don't know how." I run a hand through my hair and then turn from Andy to get more of my ointment and another bandage to cover it up again. "I recognized him. He said something about he'd chosen the wrong sister.." I tug my shirt down a little more to where it won't ride up whenever I apply the ointment.

"Here," Andy offers, taking it from my hands and then applying it liberally to the burn.

"Thank you," I say gently, stealing a glance at him as he does it. His brow is furrowed in concentration. "He also mentioned me not aging in thirteen years. Andy, I'm thirty-one. Thirteen years ago, I was eighteen. It makes no sense." We stand in silence as he finishes applying the ointment and then puts a bandage on it. "Has nothing weird happened to you since we've been here?" I see something in his eyes. It's familiar. He doesn't want to tell me. "What?" I question, feeling my heart drop into my stomach.

Andy shakes his head. "I'm not sure, exactly," he says cautiously as he pulls my shirt back up to cover my shoulder. "There was a guy that came into the station to talk about the murders with the marks on their hand. He's a fireman." I try to study his eyes, but he's not looking at me. "He said something about he'd run into my ex-wife and he thought she said I died in 1999."

"And what did you say?"

He frowns. "That I've only been married once and my wife and I are still happily married." He's obviously shaken by this. "I mean, dead? I don't know anyone in this area. I just, it doesn't make any sense."

"Mom?" I hear a scared voice from the doorway that leads into the kitchen.

"Parker?" I question, peering around Andy to see our son standing there, his face pale. I push past my husband and cross over to him. "What's wrong? Did you have another bad dream?" He nods, but doesn't speak. I pull him against me. He's burning up. I see the sweat on his forehead. "What happened?" I pull back and kneel down to his height. His eyes stare into mine. I see a fear in them that I've never seen there before.

"They need you," he says cryptically. I glance over at Andy, who looks as confused as I feel.

I shake my head, keeping my voice gentle. "Who needs us, baby?"

"Your sisters."

–

I make Parker drink some water and I take him back to his room. I hold his hand until he falls asleep. It worries me. That look on his face will haunt my dreams, I'm sure. "Sweet dreams, my boy," I whispered to him before kissing his forehead and making my way to the master bedroom, where Andy appears to have just climbed out of the shower. "He's asleep," I say gently as I cross to my side of the bed and pull back the blankets. Parker didn't say anything else after telling me that my sisters need me. He was shaken by whatever he saw in his dream.

"That's good," Andy says as he walks to his side of the bed. I can tell by the expression on his face that he's still bothered.

"Well, let's talk this out," I say carefully as I sit down. "I get recognized by a...cannibal and an attempted murderer who mentions something about choosing a sister. You get someone telling you that your ex-wife told them that you died." I turn toward him. "Do you believe me now that something weird is going on?" He nods carefully.

"But what? How do we figure it out?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I think I need to some research." I frown and reach my hand to his, which he clasps with his own. His face contorts in pain. "What's wrong?" I ask.

Andy shakes his head. "It's probably nothing. I've just had this weird ringing in my ears the last couple of days." He shrugs. "Probably from one too many gunshots over the years." I bite my bottom lip, thinking of how he constantly put his life on the line. I'm reminded of that night back in New York, when our souls crashed together. I felt as though I hadn't seen him in a lifetime.

"I don't know how I'd live without you." My voice is a scared whisper now.

"Hey..." His voice is full of compassion as he pulls me against him. I rest my head on his chest, much like I did that night. His strong heartbeat soothes my worries as he strokes my hair. "You won't live without me. That much I can promise you. We're soul mates, remember?" I nod, feeling the exhaustion from the day sink in as my eyes grow heavier. I loop my fingers with his.

"Don't you ever leave me, Andy Trudeau," I whisper.

I feel his lips on the top of my head. "I love you. Forever. Not even death could separate us."

I fall into the haze of slumber.

–

The following day, I'm up early. I see the kids off to school, Andy to work, and then I make my way to the public library. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's research. It's second nature to me. When I set my mind to something, I don't stop until I find what I'm looking for. I do a couple of quick searches on their computers, but can find nothing. I try to focus in on what we know for sure. Aside from the crazy vampire chicks, and the guy who shot energy at me, I've got nothing solid to go on. I have no names, no proof.

But Andy did. Someone recognized him. Someone said he heard that Andy had died in 1999. It's a long shot, but I shut down the computer and head for the newspaper archives. I grab microfiche from the first six months of the year and go through obituary after obituary. I read slowly, carefully, looking for anything that could potentially stick out. It's getting into the afternoon as I reach May. I've been at the library for hours. I feel my eyes straining over the dim backlight of the newspaper archive. It's been nearly fifteen years since these articles.

I'm ready for a break when I see it. _Andrew "Andy" Trudeau._ My heart stops momentarily as I force my eyes to focus. I lean closer, almost too close. My hand touches the screen. _Andy Trudeau was a servant of the people. It was in his line of work that his life was taken far too soon. He was a beloved son and the city of San Francisco will greatly miss his contribution to society. _I furrow my eyebrows and feel a flash of anger. That's it? That's all the recognition that Andy gets? Wait.. What in the world am I thinking? Andy's not dead. I print the obituary and stuff it into my purse, but I'm on a roll now. I need to find more. It's like a drug almost as I begin to pour over every page of the papers around the obituary. How did it happen? Are there any connections to me?

Another hour passes before I find it. _Killed in the Line of Duty._ I glance over the article. It appears there is a place where a picture is missing. I don't pay much mind to it as I begin to read through the article. _Detective Trudeau was responding to a disturbance at 1329 Prescott Street, the home of the Halliwell sisters. Internal Affairs detective Rodriguez is believed to have been the culprit of the disturbance. He disappeared after the incident, but not before taking the life of one of San Francisco's finest. Detective Trudeau's partner, Darryl Morris... _

I can't go on. It sounds familiar. But that's not my life. I look over the details again. The address of the incident. Home of the Halliwell sisters. That name sounds familiar as well. I print the page and put it in my bag alongside the obituary. Where did I hear the name Halliwell? I close my eyes as I try to think, but nothing comes.

My cell phone begins to ring off of the hook in my purse. I shut down the machine. "Shhhh!" I turn to see a librarian at the nearest desk giving me a harsh look.

"Sorry," I mumble as I silence the ringer. "Hello?" I whisper into the phone.

"Mrs. Trudeau?" The voice sounds all too authoritative.

"This is she?"

"My name is Sheryl Johnson. I'm the guidance counselor at your daughter's school." I shove my bag onto my shoulder and put away the microfiche.

"Peyton? Is something wrong?" I question as I hurry past the desk and out of the library.

"Your daughter attacked another student," the woman says. I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head.

"Peyton would never attack anyone," I say cautiously as I dig through my bag for my keys. "Look, I'll be there in fifteen minutes, then we can talk about it." I hang up without any further words.

–

When I pull up to the school, it's clear that classes are out. There is a straggler bus loading children as I climb from my car and rush up to the front office. "I'm so sorry," I say as I push open the door. "I got caught in traffic, and I don't know the side streets around here and-"

"Mrs. Trudeau?"

I look up to see a woman with dark hair wearing a rather stiff suit standing at the entrance to an office. Then my eyes take in my daughter. The little girl with Andy's eyes and my dark hair. I frown, but not disapprovingly. Apparently this woman has it wrong. That fear in Peyton's eyes. She doesn't even want to look at me. "Yes, I'm Prue Trudeau." I don't look at the woman. Instead, I cross over to my daughter. I place a hand on her cheek and pull her to look at me. "Are you okay?" She nods and puts her head down once more. "What's the meaning of this?" I finally turn to the woman.

"Mrs. Trudeau, if you would step in my office, please," the woman says, motioning to the door at her side.

I sigh. "I'll be right back, okay?" My voice is gentle. I squeeze Peyton on the shoulder and then enter the office, Sheryl Johnson close on my heels.

"Have a seat." Her tone is more commanding than suggestive. This woman is a guidance counselor? Guidance counselors are supposed to be fun and encouraging. Not drill sergeants. Either way, I do as requested. "Mrs. Trudeau, your daughter attacked a student."

"Yes, you said that," I say, a little more impatiently than I intended to. "Please, tell me what actually happened?"

"There's a boy on her school bus-"

"Yes, one that bullies her-" I interrupt. The woman puts up a hand and I'm silenced for the moment. I feel my eyes narrow slightly. I'm a fierce momma.

"He's also in her afternoon physical education class. After class, the boy claims your daughter used the lanyard around his neck, which carries his identification card, to choke him." I blink a few times as silence falls into the room.

"You're kidding right?"

The woman shakes her head. "I am not. I saw the indentions left around his throat. They eventually did go away."

"So he's fine then?"

She stares me down. "Mrs. Trudeau, is everything at home going well?" I nod. "I understand that transitioning into a new school is very scary for children, especially when it happens in the third grade. So I will allow this with a warning. If Peyton does anything further, I will be forced to suspend her from school." I really don't care about this woman's threat. If my daughter hurt someone, which I highly doubt since she's very small for her age, much like I was, she had a good reason. Peyton didn't do things unprovoked.

"I understand," I say, impatient to end this meeting.

"Is Peyton's father in the picture?"

"Excuse me?" I question, not quite understanding her tone.

"Mr. Trudeau?"

"Yes, he is. He's a detective for San Francisco PD," I say.

"That sort of job can have long hours-"

My defenses are up. I stand and practically throw my purse over my shoulder. "I don't know what you're insinuating, but my husband is home every single night to read Peyton a book. He's home most of the time on the weekends. Our home life is, you could say, pretty damn good. So whatever the issue is, it's obviously not a result of my parenting skills." My hand is shaking at my side. I feel the same urge I felt in the alleyway when that man was shooting energy balls at me. I feel as though if I move my hand, I could cause something to crash across the room.

That's the last thing I want right now. "And if that boy does anything to my daughter again, have no worries, I'll handle it myself." I turn without another word and head out of the office. "Come on," I say to Peyton. We walk in silence from the office together. We drive home in silence together. Once we're in the house, I can't stand the silence.

"Mom?" Questions Parker from the living room as we walk in.

"Hey," I say. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you when you got off of the bus." I hadn't even thought about him. Wow. That says I'm some kind of terrible mother.

"Is everything okay?"

I nod gently. "There was a misunderstanding at school with your sister. But no big deal, right?" I glance over my shoulder at Peyton, who still has that look of fear in her eyes. "Why don't you get washed up so you can help me fix dinner?" Parker scowls a bit. "Hey. It's your turn. Peyton helped last night." He grumbles something and then heads up the stairs. I set down my purse and turn toward my daughter. "Want to talk about it?"

She's standing near the doorway, her eyes downcast. She shakes her head slowly back and forth. I can't help but feel sympathy for her. It was our decision, Andy and mine, to move her from the only life she'd ever known. She didn't have a say in the matter. I try to remember the conversation we had with the kids about moving. Neither of them seemed upset or angry. Parker actually was enthusiastic for once about it. But Peyton never once complained. I motion to her with my finger to come here and sit down on the couch, patting the spot beside me. She removes her backpack and follows slowly to sit down. "You need to tell me what happened," I say in a gentle voice, resting my elbows on my knees. "I find it hard to believe that you would purposely choke a boy, no matter what he did to you."

"I didn't!" she protests. "He was picking on me. Saying my hair looked dumb. And he kept shoving me on the bus this morning. So I just looked at him and I—I-" She looks up at me, that fear still present.

"You what?" I say gently. She buries her face in her hands. I pull one of her hands from her face. I see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I _wished_ that he'd get hurt. Just so he'd stop picking on me. I never touched him. The thing just tightened around his neck," she says, exasperated.

I can feel my own fear rising into my throat. She didn't touch him. It did it on its own. I look down at my own hands, remembering the anger I felt, the need to use my hands to move something. As strange as it seems, could what I have had been passed on to my daughter? "I believe you," I whisper. She sobbing gently, so I pull her against me and stroke her hair. "I know you would never hurt someone intentionally, baby girl." I press my lips to the top of her head. Parker sulks through the living room and darts into the kitchen without a word. "I bet he doesn't mess with you again." I say with a smirk.

Peyton looks up at me almost incredulously. "What? Whatever happened, happened for a reason. Maybe he'll take it as a sign and back off." She smiles at me. "Just promise me that if you get angry like that, take some deep breaths. Just calm down." My daughter nods. It's in those small moments that I see her father. She looks so much like me, but she has Andy's expressions. "Let's go get ready for dinner, okay?"

–

**A/N:**I am _so_ sorry for not posting anything the last week. I've been sick and when I don't feel good, the inspiration doesn't come. I know a lot of you have some questions about the prior chapter. It will all be explained at the right moment. Thank you for sticking with the story so far. I appreciate the feedback.


	5. Chapter Five

Sleep evades me. With Parker's nightmares and the incident with Peyton at school, as well as the news that my husband died in 1999, I feel like my head is going to explode. I show Andy the article and his obituary, but he doesn't really say anything about it. He stays late at work the next several days. So late that I'm already tucked into bed and half asleep when he gets home. But I can't get a full night of sleep. My mind goes over the words in the article over and over again. Detective Trudeau was responding to an incident at 1329...Home of the Halliwell Sisters...Beloved son of the city of San Francisco. I wake up in a cold sweat, the image of him flying backward haunting me. It's like I saw it. Like I was there. But Andy is always right next to me when I wake in the middle of the night. I feel his presence as deeply as if we were the same person.

I'm awake well before dawn on Saturday. I have the article on the coffee table in front of me, reading it over and over again. That's when I get an idea. The name of his partner. Darryl Morris. I power up my personal laptop and do the one thing I always resort to when I can't resolve something: Google. After some digging, I find out that he's no longer in San Francisco. He's moved to the east coast. Maybe there's something he can tell me that would make sense? Something that would help me figure this all out. It's almost too easy finding his cell phone number. It almost unnerves me how easy. My hand trembles as I pick up my cell phone and input the number. What if what he tells me is something I can't handle?

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. "You've reached the voicemail of Lieutenant Darryl Morris. I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave your name and number and I'll call you back." I hesitate and then hang up quickly, practically dropping the phone into my lap. What am I supposed to say? Oh, hi, I'm the wife of your dead partner. Can you tell me if anything was odd about his death? I stare at the phone. Can I leave it at not knowing? The answer is simple. No. I have to find out what is going on. That's as simple as it is. So I dial again.

One ring.

Two.

"Hello?" My heart drops down into my belly. I hesitate, my voice cracking before I clear my throat.

"Hi, is this Darryl Morris?" It's a stupid question. I recognize the voice from his voicemail.

"Yes, who's this?"

If I tell him I'm married to someone supposedly dead, he won't talk to me. "I wanted to talk to you about your partner from San Francisco. Andy Trudeau?" The line is silent, but he's still there. I can hear his breathing.

"Who is this?"

I frown. "His wife," I say grimly.

"Susan?" Susan? I don't reply. "Susan. He's dead. I was the one who called and told you. What do you want to talk about Andy for?" 

Susan? I remember the comment made to Andy. The person who told him he died was someone who was told by his ex-wife. "I have a lot of questions. I was wondering if there was any way we could meet. I'm in San Francisco, but I could-"

"Susan, I don't think that's a good idea," he interjects. "It's been fifteen years. Why all of the sudden are you interested in talking about it?"

I bite my bottom lip, allowing the pain to stifle back my emotions. "Because I can't believe it's true. There's something weird going on." Now I can hear the hesitation on his side of the phone. "Something about how he died. It's off." He exhales loudly.

"I'll be in San Francisco next week. I have a niece graduating. We could meet then?" I feel relief wash over me. He thinks I'm Susan Trudeau. At least I can play that up. "Hello?"

"I'm here. Sorry. That sounds great. Where would you like to meet?"

"The park off of main. There's a tree on the south end with a bench swing. That was one of Andy's favorite places in the city," he says. The call ends with a cordial goodbye, but I can sense the apprehension in his voice.

"Who was that?" I glance up to see Andy standing at the bottom of the stairs. He walks toward me, his eyes looking over the article.

"The man this article says was your partner when you died," I say, pointing to the name in the article. "Darryl Morris. I'm meeting him when he's town next week." He reads over the paper. "Do you want to go with me?" Andy shakes his head.

"I think if I really died, it might be a little much for him to see me. What did you tell him?"

I run a hand through my hair. "Just that I wanted to talk to him about your death."

"And you told him you were-?"

"He assumed that I was your wife Susan," I say simply. Andy sits down next to me on the couch. He places a hand on my knee and leans back. I can see that even though he's just woken up, he's exhausted. "Do you have to go in today?" He nods, then runs a hand wearily over his face.

"We're still trying to sort out this string of murders," he says. I place my hand on his and give it a gentle squeeze. "I feel like I'm so close to figuring it out. If only I had something...more. I feel like there's something that I'm lacking that could help me solve it." I wish I knew what to tell him. But we're both sort of lost in this entire thing, aren't we?

–

I try to focus on work while I wait for my meeting with Darryl. My photography has suffered since moving to San Francisco. Mainly because of all of the weird stuff, but also because every place I go to photograph feels too familiar. Like I've taken that picture in that lighting before. I like to think my work is original, but all of this feels like deja vu. As I go through the shots on my computer in the evenings, I feel flickers of emotion. A deep sadness on the beach. Panic on a highway bridge. Peace when overlooking the bay.

While flipping through the photos, my eye catches one of a rural street. It slopes to the south and the houses are lined back from the street. But there's one house in particular that catches my eye. It's a deep pink Victorian manor. I've seen it before. I don't have a lot of time to spend on it, but it feels like every other picture. There are emotions connected to it. However, motherhood doesn't allow me much room to think about it.

This week starts extracurricular activities for the kids. School is going to be out soon and they'll need to keep busy with stuff during the summer. It's business as usual, for the most part. At least, there are no more cryptic dreams from Parker about sisters needing me, or strange incidents with Peyton at school. For all intents and purposes, life is normal.

"Why is Daddy getting me onto the bus?" Peyton questioned, her bottom lip pouted out as I slip my sweater over my shoulders. I tug at the front to straighten it and smile down at her.

"Because I have a meeting," I reply, turning to my purse on the table to dig out my keys. "I'll be here when you get off of the bus this afternoon though." She looks up at me with anxiety in her eyes. I stop what I'm doing and turn toward her. "What's wrong?"

Peyton shrugs. I'm reminded of the day when she was so scared and didn't want to look at me. "You always put me on the bus."

"Hey..." I lean down to get on her level. My beautiful little girl who sometimes thinks the world is on her shoulders. I brush the hair from her face and rearrange the pin in her hair to keep it back. "It's going to be fine. I'll be right here when you get home." She gives a meek smile and I kiss her forehead. Andy walks in, giving that boyish grin. "See? Daddy will be with you all of the way to the bus."

Andy nods and I feel his hand on the small of my back as I stand up. "Be careful," he says in a low voice. I give him that look I always do when he underestimates me.

"I'll be fine," I say before leaning up and pressing my lips to his. "I'll call you after." He nods. "Where's Parker?" I look around, but don't see him. "Parker!" I hear his footsteps on the stairs as I head toward the front of the house. He appears at the top of the stairs. "I'm leaving, buddy." His expression is sullen. I furrow my eyebrows. "Have a good day, okay? I'll see you when you get home from school. You've got karate tonight so be sure to get all of your homework together so it can be done right after." He nods. I stare at him expectantly. He shakes his head in question. "Come give me a hug." I extend my arms toward him.

It takes a few minutes, but, reluctantly, he gives me a hug. I kiss the top of his head, as I used to do when he was little. He pries himself from my grasp. Andy meets me at the door with a thermos of coffee. "You're a god, sir," I say happily. He leans down and kisses me firmly on the mouth.

"I know," he says with a grin. I'm glad he's in a good mood. Maybe it's that he doesn't have to go into work until later. "Love you."

"I love you," I say, giving him another quick peck on the lips and then head out of the door. My nerves hit me almost instantly once I get in the car. It's early, but Darryl said he only had time to meet me before the graduation ceremony. I follow the route I memorized, avoiding the main traffic areas until I find the park. The sun has come up over the horizon and is shining directly through the trees. I walk around a cluster of bushes and I see it. The bench swing hangs from a large oak tree. I'm early. Darryl hasn't arrived yet. I slip my purse from my shoulder as I reach the swing.

I'm overcome with a sadness so deep that my heart aches. I rest my hand on the back planks of wood, my fingers feeling the roughness of it. An image flashes before my eyes, standing in front of Andy, telling him that I'd die if anything happened to him. As soon as it comes, it's gone. All that remains is the empty swing.

"Prue?"

My head snaps up as I turn to see Darryl Morris standing there. He's almost a foot taller than me. There were no pictures with the articles, but I recognize him. He feels like an old friend.

"Hi," I say. "I guess you figured out that I'm not Susan." Darryl appears to be speechless. He opens his mouth several times, then stops. "You look like you've seen a ghost." Then it dawns on me. He knows my name. "Wait. Do you know me?"

"I must be seeing a ghost," he says incredulously. "Because the last time I saw you, your sisters were burying you." The words of that vampire ring in my mind. _The eldest Charmed One has returned._ Returned from the dead? "Say something." His voice brings me from the memory.

"Darryl, I don't know you," I say, taking a cautious step forward. "I got your name from an article. An article about Andy dying."

"This doesn't make any sense. You died thirteen years ago. How are you standing in front of me?"

I shake my head. "No. I didn't die." I can see the gears working in his head. He looks up toward the sky, much like the man who attacked me in the alleyway. Then he looks back at me. "Andy didn't either. He and I are married. We have children. We just moved to San Francisco a few months ago. But all of these weird things are happening-"

"Like what?" He questions. Then a moment later, he asks, " Like moving things with your mind?" I freeze, my eyes widening.

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know if the Elders are playing some sick joke, but I need to get you to your sisters," he says.

"Everyone keeps saying I have sisters. I'm an only child," I say stubbornly. "We just moved from New York. Andy and I and our kids. They're the only family I have."

Darryl steps toward me. "Okay, something strange is going on."

"No kidding. How do you know me?" I question, feeling my walls build back up. I'm getting frustrated. All I wanted out of this conversation was to find out what happened to Andy.

"I was Andy's partner back in the late nineties," he said, his tone careful. "The two of you were old friends, high school loves. Weird stuff started happening, we had a ton of unsolved cases. Right before he died, he told me that you were linked to them all. You and your sisters."

"How did he die?" I interrupt. "The article I found says it was in the line of duty, but they didn't provide any details."

"A demon killed him." I feel my stomach drop. Vampires. Demons. What else don't I know about this world? "You and your sisters, you were—are witches." There it is. The bomb. I shake my head. "I didn't know at first. Eventually I found out. We worked together to save people. But two years after Andy died, you were killed by a demon as well. You died trying to protect innocents. That's what you did. What Andy did."

I shake my head. "No, no that's not possible. I'm from New York. Andy and I grew up in the city and we've been together since high school and we have kids. Two beautiful kids, a boy and a girl and-and-" I'm starting to hyperventilate. This isn't right. None of it. "Andy's—He's alive. I saw him this morning before I came here. He kissed me goodbye and I can call him-"

"Prue," Darryl says. I can see the sympathy in his eyes. "Let's take a drive." My head shakes again. I can feel the tears in my own eyes. "You need to see something."

–

Twenty minutes later, I climb from the passenger seat of his car. We're in a cemetery. I push the door closed on the car and turn in the direction that Darryl is walking. This feels all too familiar. My steps are slow as I walk around the car and follow behind him. He stops and turns to look at me, motioning me forward with his head. I turn my gaze forward, finding the headstone in question. _Andrew Trudeau. 1970-1999. _My heart stopped for a full five seconds. I blink rapidly, unable to believe what I'm seeing. I take two steps forward and kneel before the stone. I reach my hand forward to trace the letters with my fingertips.

That's when the world around me fades and the images begin. A woman holding baby girl. _Isn't Phoebe beautiful, Prue?_ She asks me. A little boy in a cowboy hat. I hear my grams fussing at me, but I can't quite make out what she's saying. Hiding beneath a blanket whispering with another little girl. Piper. Sneaking out with a teenage boy. Andy. Thinking that he would be the be all, end all of my world. Fighting with Phoebe. Going to college, and moving home to take care of grams and Piper and the manor. Then Phoebe's return.

At this point, the images around me are swirling and moving so fast that it's hard to keep up. There's a book with a symbol on it. _The Power of Three Will Set Us Free..._ Warlocks and demons and time travel. Reconnecting with Andy. Using the truth spell and finding out his reaction. Going to the past and seeing my mother and grandmother alive and well. Andy protecting my secret. Andy losing his job. Rodriguez. The time loop. Being with Andy at our swing. _I'd die if anything happened to you_. Phoebe's vision, the one of Andy flying backward. Remembering that place between death and living when Andy came to me and told me I had to go on. That he would always be with me.

The images with Andy move in almost slow motion. My hand placing a red and white rose on a coffin. Then, the images speed up again. Learning more about magic and other magical beings. P3. Trying to find love again. Quitting the miserable job at Bucklands to pursue photography. Cole Turner. Piper and Leo's wedding. Shax. Crashing through a wall. And then nothing. The images fade to black. For a moment, I'm blinded, even though I can feel the cool stone of Andy's headstone at my fingertips. I feel my eyes blink and the world reforms around me. My cheeks are tearstained as I take a deep breath and realize that I knew the truth all along.

The world that I'd been living in, the one where Andy and I were happy and normal, it was a lie. That's why there were no pictures of our wedding or baby pictures of the kids. We never got married. We never had children. It was a fake world that someone put me in. The anger flares inside of my chest as I realize only one group of people have that kind of power.

The Elders. They haven't heard the last from me just yet.

–

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. The plan is to have at least one new chapter up per week, just so everyone knows the expectation. I hope you all enjoyed! I look forward to the next part. :)


	6. Chapter Six

I want to break down. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to mourn what feels like the loss of my innocence. But that's not how Prue Halliwell handles things. Maybe the Prue with no memories would break down, but the real me, the person I remember, I push forward. I move on. I get to the bottom of things and I kick ass. No hesitation, no second guessing. That's not how I am. So I wipe my cheeks, and then I turn back to Darryl.

"You okay?" he questions.

"Yeah." I nod and walk to him. "How are my sisters?" But I stop, remembering that he doesn't live here anymore. "Nevermind. You probably don't know." I look up at him curiously. "Why did you move?" The last I remember, Darryl was carrying on the job that Andy left behind, working with my sisters and I to make San Francisco a safer place.

He hesitates, his eyes averting from mine. "Things got really complicated, with the magic and all. There was a point..." He shakes his head. "I just couldn't do it anymore, and Shelia and I left. That's all." I nod, understanding the words without him even saying it. I place a hand to his shoulder.

"There were a lot of times I wished I could just pick up and go. I'm glad that you had the chance to get away from it," I say. He just nods. "I need to see my sisters now. If you could take me to your car-"

"Wait a second," he says. I look up at him, knowing the depth of what he feels when it comes to magic. How it can mess up a person's life. It killed me. I understand all too well. "You said Andy was alive."

My eyes widen. I almost forgot about him. "Yes." I reach for my phone, but it's not in my pocket. "I must have left it in my car. Can you bring me back to it? I can call him, have him meet us somewhere?" But Darryl shakes his head again. I frown. "He's just as alive as he was then. They brought us both back. For whatever reason."

"Well, whatever that reason is, as much as I'd like to see him, I don't want to get wrapped up in the Charmed Ones again. No offense."

"None taken." My words are true. I almost wish that I could take it all back. That I could leave my curiosity and just go back to that fake life. But I can't. I know that no matter what, my destiny lies with my sisters. I've been dead for thirteen years, I believe, and they must need me if the Elders brought me back.

The drive back to my car is silent. I don't mention Andy again, and neither does Darryl. It has to be hard for someone to come back to life, when you know for certain they're dead. I must have been a major shock to him. But even if so, he doesn't say anything. When we get back to the park, he steps out of the car and looks at me.

"It's good to see you, Prue. I know your sisters will be glad to see you, too." I smile at his comment. Even though I'm sad because I died, I feel this overwhelming happiness at the prospect of seeing them again. I nod and give him a hug. Then, without another word, he leaves me in the park. I get into the car and search for my phone, but I can't find it anywhere. I know I had it when I left the house this morning. But time is of the essence and I need to get to the manor. The place where I grew up. The house that I always viewed as a burden until I realized that home was where my heart was. Where it always was.

–

The drive is familiar. The streets, the air, everything about it except for the people. And the cars are newer. But not much has changed in the neighborhood where Andy and I grew up. Where my sisters and I played under the watchful eye of our Grams. Where we became the Charmed Ones. There was a lot of love in that house. I can only hope that continued on after my death. I park a couple of houses down, my eyes finally taking in the sight of it. The deep ruby colored walls, the white trim around the windows. The rose bushes are still there off to the side. I don't see a car in the driveway.

My emotions are all over the place as I unbuckle the seatbelt. How are they going to react? Will they be happy? Of course they'll be happy, but will they accept that I'm truly back? How have they fared after all of this time? Fear turns to panic. What if they don't need me anymore? I try to shake the questions away and climb out of the car, the sunlit early summer sun kissing my skin. One of the neighbors waves to me. I don't recognize them, but I wave back. Maybe they recognize me. I can't be sure. I cross the street and take my time coming up the sidewalk, remembering my life before.

I remember scraping my knee after tripping through that broken chunk of sidewalk, chasing after Phoebe who'd stolen my bike. I remember countless times walking down to the street to get the newspaper with my fresh morning coffee. I turn left and look upward at the house. The stained glass windows of the attic. Grams kept that place a secret from us growing up. It wasn't until she died and Phoebe came home that we found out the truth about our lives.

My steps are slow as the memories flash before my eyes. There were several times I met Andy on these very steps. _Andy, Hi._ I would always say, before he knew my secret. He would propose something about a case I'd obviously affected with my magic and I would avoid it. Even when he found out my secret... I shake the thought away, not wanting to remember it. So I press forward, taking the stairs one step at a time. I reach the door, my fingers run over the old wood, the glass. So many memories are rushing through my mind that my head hurts.

Apparently after having an empty head, when it gets full again, it takes some time to adjust. The door is unlocked, like it usually was, which was stupid, and I step into the house, taking in the sight of it. Aside from a couple of wayward toys, the furniture is pretty much the same. I smile as I breath in the scent.

Home.

"Piper? Phoebe?" I call out. The only reply is silence. I narrow my eyes a bit, stepping further into the house, passing by the stairs. Maybe Piper is in the kitchen. I catch sight of a firetruck in the sun room. Children. I didn't even realize that with so much time passing, my sisters probably had families. Piper and Leo were married whenever I died. And Phoebe... My thoughts turn dark as I find the kitchen empty. "Cole." I say. He attacked me in that alleyway. He tried to kill me. But why? If he was a good guy, like we thought, why would he attack me?

My first instinct is to run to the attic. So I do. That's what we always do when we can't figure things out. It's such a familiar trek up the stairs and across the hall, then up the few steps that lead to the attic door. I push it open and in doing so, stir up some dust. I cough momentarily, but press forward, finding it sitting on its familiar stand. My eyes take in the green cover. I'm not rushing now. No, the book is different. It's much thicker. But I know in an instance it's the same. It's like part of me can feel the magic that runs between its pages. I run my hands over the triquetra on the cover. Our symbol. The Charmed Ones.

I pull open the cover and my eyes catch the incantation that gave us our powers.

_Hear now the words of the witches,_

_The secrets we hid in the night,_

_The oldest of Gods are invoked here,_

_The great work of Magic is sought_

_In this night and in this hour,_

_We call upon the Ancient Power_

_Bring your powers to we sisters three!_

_We want the power!_

_Give us the power!_

I smile to myself as I remember that night. I was so angry at Phoebe. But, really, I was angry at myself, and a little jealous of my youngest sister. She was always such a carefree spirit, didn't worry about responsibilities. Just went with the wind. I wish I had taken more time to do that before. But someone always needed me. Piper and Phoebe. Grams. It was rare that I could be selfish. And when I finally discovered that I could, it was near the end of my life. I finally quit that stuffy job at Bucklands and pursued photography. But it was too late.

I begin to flip through the pages, searching for anything on Cole. I know there's a section on Belthazor. I vaguely remember the details. Perhaps my sisters have added more information to the book on him. Something that would tell me why he would attack me as he did. As I read over the pages, I see many spells there that weren't present when I was alive. My sisters have added new spells and potions. I recognize Piper's handwriting on many of the potions and I smile. She was always the cook in the family, that's for sure.

The pages begin to flip rapidly on their own, much like they used to when Grams was guiding us through our first year as witches. It lands on the To Call a Lost Witch. My head cocks back a little as my eyebrows furrow. I look around, finding the attic is as empty as it was when I first walked in. Why would someone be directing me to this spell?

"A pinch of rosemary, sprig of Cypress, yarrow root..what? What are you trying to tell me?" I question out loud, turning my eyes to the boards of the roof above my head.

"Oh! Demon!" A voice says from near the doorway. I turn my head and see Piper, her hands up as she tries to use her freezing power. It doesn't work and she's visibly confused when she sees my face. She lowers her hands and shakes her head. "You're not... You're a shapeshifter." But her eyes turn down to the book, where my hands rest.

I lift my eyebrows. "That's not exactly the welcome I was hoping to get, considering I was dead for thirteen years." I can see the tears in her eyes as she opens her mouth to speak, but turns her head. Refusal to believe what she is seeing. _Oh, Piper.._ I think. I step forward, but she lifts her hands as if to ward me off. "Piper-"

"Don't take another step. You may be immune to my powers, but I'll van-"

"Vanquish me?" I finish, shaking my head. "Come on. How else would I be able to touch the book?"

"I-I don't know. You've figured some way around the magical protection. You-you're not her!" Piper's hands are shaking. She looks older, wiser. Her body has changed, hinting at motherhood.

"It's me." I try to keep my voice calm, but the fact that she absolutely refuses to believe me is unsettling. "The Elders brought me back." She shakes her head again. I can hear her whimpering _no_. "Okay. When we thought an earthquake happened, but it was really the woogyman, I cracked a joke because Phoebe was so scared." Her eyes widen. It was such a small, insignificant detail, but I know that Piper will remember. "She said earthquakes gave her the jeebies-"

"And you asked if that would be the Phoebe Jeebies." She exhales loudly and I cross toward her. I feel Piper in my arms, gripping on to me like she would never let me go. I stroke her hair gently as I find myself gripping on to her as tightly as she is to me. In an instant, I feel some of the tension being relived from my shoulders. I take in her scent, remembering that Piper always smelled like lavender and spices. No matter if she was brewing a potion, she always reminded me of home. Because for a long time, that's what Piper was to me growing up and in those first few years of adulthood. I can't help but hold on to her through her sobs. This is my little sister. Piper. We skinned knees and cried over boys together.

And became witches together.

When we both finally let go, I can feel tears on my cheeks for the second time that day. I look into her eyes, which are the same eyes that both she and Phoebe have. "It's really you," she says, her voice full of emotion. I nod and brush the hair from her face, pressing my palm against her cheek.

"It's really me," I confirm.

"But-why? What are you doing here?" Piper questions. I sigh, feeling some of the weight returning to my shoulders as I turned back to the book.

"I don't know," I admit as I turn back to the book and begin to flip the pages again. "I—It's like they're playing some sort of cruel joke on me. I sort of just woke up one day, in New York, and I had a family and something felt off, but I just went with it." I glance up at my sister as she wipes her cheeks. An image of Piper at 23, scared of becoming a witch flashes through my mind. "I sort of pieced things together here and there. I found Darryl. He helped me to remember who I really was."

"We can call the Elders. After all the hell they've put us through, the least they can do is explain," Piper said, a note of bitterness at the edge of her voice. I wonder what has happened to her over the years. She obviously had to step into the role of being a big sister. I wish she never had to do that in the first place. She turned her eyes toward the ceiling. "A little help down here?" She questioned, aggravated. I would have to ask her later exactly what the Elders did to anger her so much. I remember they tried to keep Piper and Leo apart, but they were married when I died.

Nothing happens.

"We haven't had to call them in a while, maybe they turned off their radio," Piper said, sarcasm seething through her words.

"Why not call Leo?"

"Good idea!" Piper said, then turned and walked through the attic door. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Can't she just call for Leo and he could orb in? I follow behind her, down the main stairway and into the foyer, where that ancient handheld house phone is. She dials a number and I look at her quizzically.

"Can't you just _call_ him?" I suggest, glancing toward the ceiling. Piper shakes her head and then holds up a finger, telling me to wait. That is such a mom move, if I ever knew one.

"Hi, Leo, can you drop the kids off at the babysitter's?" Leo says something, to which Piper replies. "We kind of have a situation. Uh huh. Well, it is sort of more important than a play date." She looks at me. "What's more important than that? Well, Leo, I'm standing here looking at Prue." She gives me a brief smile. "Yes, I'm sure. It's not a shifter. Not a demon. It's her. She touched the book. Yeah. Just get here, okay? We need to get some of your Elder expertise." She shakes her head and hangs up the phone. "Sorry. He's a little argumentative these days."

"So why did you literally call him on the phone?"

"They didn't tell you?" She questions. I lift my eyebrows. "Oh, you don't remember. Right. The Elders made Leo mortal several years ago. To give him a second chance...sort of thing."

I glance around the main area of the house. "Where's Phoebe?" I question.

"You didn't expect us to still live together after all of this time?" I shake my head in response. "She and Coop the Cupid, her husband, have an apartment in town. And Paige-" Her eyes widen as she looks at me. "Paige!" She calls out, like she used to when she called for Leo. "We have an emergency. Get Phoebe and get to the manor now!"

It's a lot to take in. Leo gave up his wings. Phoebe is married to a Cupid. And who the hell is Paige? I turn back toward the stairs and walk up them, my eyes looking over the photographs. There are a few of us growing up, but then I see the ones of children. A boy with blond hair. A smile grows across my face. "This one yours?" I feel Piper step up beside me. I can see the pride glowing on her face.

"That's your nephew, Wyatt," she says. "And this-" She points to another of Phoebe holding a dark haired baby. "Is Chris, my second son." I take in the photos of my sister's family and find that I could not be happier for her.

"They're beautiful, Piper," I admit. Then a thought strikes me. My eyes widen. "What time is it?"

"A little after three."

Her response shocks me back into reality. Parker. Peyton. Andy. My family. "I have to go," I say suddenly and start down the stairs.

"What? Where?" Piper questions. I didn't realize how it got to be so late in the day. Peyton is going to hate me if I miss her getting off of the bus.

"I—My kids. They'll be getting home from school soon. I need to be there-"

"Kids? You have kids?" Piper questions, obviously confused.

"I have a family, Piper. Like you and Leo, Andy and I were given another chance somewhere down the line. We have a son and a daughter." I attempt to swallow the lump that forms in my throat. "I'll come back after I get them. I'm sure they'd love to meet you. Parker's been dreaming about you." I turn to head back toward the door, but two figures appear amongst bright blue and white lights in front of me. One has dark hair and full lips. I don't recognize her. It must be Paige, who I'm beginning to think is the new whitelighter.

But the other I know better than my own reflection. Instantly, the tears fill my eyes. Her mouth hangs open as she looks at me. She glanced to Piper, then back to me. "How is this possible?" She questions in a whisper.

We stare at one another. She's so much older, more mature. My baby sister. "Phoebe," I say, my voice full of more emotion than I intended. I was always Prue, the strong one. But right now, I don't feel very strong. I just want the comfort of my sisters. I reach out to her and can see she's shaking as she steps forward and meets my embrace. I hold her against me, feeling the tears slide down my cheek. As strong as I like to pretend I am, right now, I'm a babbling baby, and I don't care one bit.

"How?" Phoebe asks again as I pull back from her.

I shake my head and wipe the salt tracks from my cheeks. "I don't know," I admit. "Piper called the Elders but they didn't come. We were hoping Leo might know something."

"Prue?" I blink a couple of times at the voice. Paige. The whitelighter.

"Hi," I say, pulling back from Phoebe to look at her. "Paige, right?" She nods. I can see tears in her eyes as well. Which I don't understand. She looks familiar, sure, but I could have seen her when I was dead. Who knows? "It's nice to meet you. You seem like a very efficient whitelighter." Business talk. Because that's the best way to force down the emotions I'm feeling at being reunited with my sisters.

"Ummm...Prue-" I hear Piper say behind me. I can hear caution in her voice. I turn back to look at her.

"What?" I question. I glance at Phoebe, who's eyes are wide as she glances at Paige, then Piper. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Paige isn't our whitelighter," Phoebe explains. I look at her questioningly. "She's our sister." I feel my heart drop into my stomach. My eyebrows furrow and I shake my head.

"We don't have another sister," I say dumbly as I look between Piper and Phoebe. Both of them are trying to be gentle with this information. "No. We don't. It was the three of us. The power of three."

"That's not the whole story." But Phoebe's words barely register as I look at Paige. She stands straight, an emotion on her face that I can't read. It's not possible that we had another sister.

"Mom died within two years of Phoebe being born. She didn't have another daughter," I say, my resolve growing firm. "I would remember it. I was the oldest. I remember around that time. There wasn't another baby." My words are coming out a little harsher than I intend. But I can't help it. That's not something our mother would have kept from us. If we had another sister, Grams and Mom would have made sure she grew up with us.

I can hear Piper saying my name, but I'm beginning to shake. "No. Piper. We don't have another sister. It was just the three of us." I turn to look at her. "If she was a Charmed one, she wouldn't be able to orb-"

"Mom had a thing with her whitelighter. It was unheard of in those days-"

"This is a joke. Some sick joke," I say, feeling like I'm running out of air. All of the time I've been dead, my sisters have found some kind of replacement for me? I shake my head. "The Elders are screwing with us all. That has to be it." I can see tears in Paige's eyes, and while I feel bad for being so harsh, I can't help it. My mother wouldn't have kept this from us.

"We can call mom. She'll tell you."

"No," I say firmly, my head shaking. Maybe part of me is angry because I didn't know when I was alive before. Because if I had, I wouldn't have left my sister out in the cold. "I-I have to go-" I head for the door, and hear both Piper and Phoebe calling out to me, but I slam the door shut with a wave of my hand and force the lock closed so it'll stop them.

I have my reasons for leaving there so quickly. The thought that I have another sister is overwhelming. And I have to get home to my children. My family. Because _they_ are the ones who need me.

–

By the time I get home, it's nearly four. I've missed the bus. I pull up to the house and squeal my tires as I slam on the breaks and put it in park. I rush into the house, practically breaking the glass as I push the door open. I'm so irresponsible. This happened with Parker once before, and now with both of them. "Parker? Peyton?" I call out into the house. I need to see them.

But the only thing that greets me is silence. I go about frantically searching for them in the main room of the house. They aren't home. Where are my kids? I search desperately for my cell phone. Again, unable to find it. I grab the house phone and start dialing, but the line is dead. What is going on?

"Hello, Prudence." I turn to see a woman standing in gray robes. She's got dark skin and braided hair. She looks at me with a soft expression.

"Who are you?" I question, raising my hands a bit to be prepared in case she attacks me. You never know what someone is going to do with you. My years as a witch taught me that.

Her voice is calm and steady, but what she says makes me feel anything but calm. "I'm the Angel of Destiny. Your children aren't here. They never were."


	7. Chapter Seven

"Excuse me?" The words are out of my mouth before I can form a coherent thought. She stares at me, her expression impartial. She blinks a couple of times, but doesn't appear to be in any rush to explain. The longer the silence runs, the more my stomach turns. "Where are my children?" My voice cracks on the last word. "What did you do to them?"

"You can't really call them yours, Prudence." She says as she looks about the room. I'm standing rigid, on edge as she pauses and looks back at me. "This is a lovely home. But it's very Andy, isn't it? Wife, kids, white picket fence." Her eyes begin to glitter at me in am almost mischievous manner. A memory comes to mind. I'm practically transported back in time to before Andy and I died.

"_Listen Prue,_" The tone of his voice concerns me. I feel like my heart is shattering to pieces. _"I've done some thinking about the truth spell."_ Oh no. Not this. Not again. _"And I'm still kind of trying to sort my feelings out, but I've kind of come to the conclusion that no matter whether I had a minute, a month, or a year to think about it wouldn't change the truth."_ I feel the wetness on my cheeks. This wasn't long before he died. When he found out we were witches without the guise of a truth spell. _"It may sound boring, but I know that someday I want to have a normal life to come home to. You know, with a white picket fence and a two-car garage, a screaming kid."_ My heart drops into my stomach as I anticipate his next words. _"But no demons. Maybe it's because of all of the evil I deal with every day on the job. I don't know."_

The room fades back and the Angel of Destiny is still standing in front of me. "He got what he wanted," she says simply. "Family, normal life. And it's what you always wanted, too, wasn't it?" I glare at her, refusing to answer. "Prue, this conversation would work much better if you actually speak to me."

"I never had a choice in what I wanted out of life," I say simply. "I had a destiny that I couldn't escape."

"But you did."

I furrow my eyebrows. This woman is speaking in riddles and I'm frustrated. "How so?"

"By dying," she says, lifting her eyebrows expectantly. "You weren't destined to die. But it happened. Sometimes destiny doesn't always work out." I feel my head shaking.

"You are unbelievable. You come in here, tell me my kids didn't exist, but you won't explain to me why I've been brought back from the dead."

"That's because you haven't asked," she says. She sits down at the kitchen table and pulls out the chair beside her. "Have a seat."

My arms cross over my chest. "I'd rather stand." Of course, I'm defiant. I was defiant in high school, too. I had a major problem with authority.

"Have it your way," she snaps her fingers and conjures a mug with a steaming hot liquid. The room falls silent except for the spoon stirring in her cup. "You died in 2001. It's 2014."

"I can do math." I shake my head and roll my eyes.

"About four months ago, we were alerted to a major threat to the magical world," she explains. "So we came to you, in the heavens, to propose you return to earth to do your part in protecting magic."

"What was the danger?" I interject, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"A child," she says. "I'll get there. Just bear with me." Her tone is a little nicer this time. She can see that I'm desperate to find out why. "You and Andy found one another again, in the heavens. For a while, the two of you spent time together and made a peaceful life. But, as it usually happens, Andy grew restless of peace. You," she chuckles, "you couldn't get enough of the peace, understandably so. Andy decided to come to the Elders with the request of becoming a whitelighter. He felt he could be an asset to protecting people, future witches and whitelighters, like Leo was for you and your sisters." She stops stirring her mug, her eyes staring into the liquid for a long moment.

"Drink this," she says, offering me the mug. I turn up my nose.

"Why would I drink anything you give me? How do I know it's not-"

"Poison?" She turns her face down a bit to scold me. "Why would we bring you back to earth just to kill you again?" I shrug. "This will allow you to see your memories. The ones after you died. When mortals visit the heavens and return to earth, they forget everything. It's to protect not only ourselves but the mortals who visit. In case demons or other evil beings want to get information. If they thought a mortal had any information they could use to gain access, and potentially control, of the heavens, they would harm innocents." She looks at me. "That's what we do, Prue. We protect the innocent."

Those words ring true. That's what my sisters and I were charged with doing when we became witches. Protectors of the innocent. Ass-kickers of evil. I sigh and walk toward her, taking the offered mug. "You may want to sit down," she says, repeating her earlier sentiment. I give her a questioning glance. "It's a strong potion. You could potentially fall and harm yourself." She's being more gentle than callous, so I do as suggested and take the seat beside her. I look down at the liquid. It looks like water. It smells like water. "It's not water," she says. "Do not tread lightly."

My eyes turn back to the mug. I'm hesitant, of course, but obviously this Angel of Destiny knows that I won't trust it's the truth if she tells me what happened. She wants me to relive it. I'm not sure what I'll see, and that scares me. The unknown always has. And that's probably why I was so afraid when we became witches. But, like all things, I know that I have to take this leap of faith, just like I took a leap of faith with my sisters into saving innocents. There's a reason I was brought back, and it's time for me to learn it.

I bring the mug to my mouth and take a deep sip. The liquid is warm and salty. It reminds me of Grams's chicken noodle soup she gave me on a rainy day when I stayed home from school because I had the flu. I feel the mug fall from my grasp; I hear it crash to the floor, but I'm no longer in the kitchen of the home Andy and I built. Instead, my vision is white. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the brightness of it all. I lower my head and catch sight of the gold robes I'm wearing. "We are merely observers. They can't see us." I turn my head to see the Angel of Destiny standing beside me.

"_No, I'm not dead._" I hear my own voice. It's kind of like getting home to check the answering machine and finding out that no one listed to your message you left saying you'd be late. I turn toward the source of the noise. I'm sitting, my mother on one side, Grams on the other. _"I can't be. Shax. The Source is going to kill Piper and Phoebe. I have to go back."_ I stand and try to run. Although I'm not sure where to. I'm stopped by an invisible force and then fall to the ground, unconscious.

"_Mother,"_ I hear my mom say.

Grams shrugs her shoulders. _"What did you expect me to do? Let her run off into the abyss?"_ Grams hasn't changed. She's still the same snarky woman from when she was alive.

"_You didn't have to do that."_ My mother looks the same as she did when she died all of those years ago. She walks over to my unconscious body and cradles my head, gently brushing the hair out of my face. It's fresh. I have just died. Deep down, though, the feelings are coming. The panic I felt when I died. _"Prue."_ I can hear my mother's voice as though she's above me, even though it's just a memory. I stir awake and stare up at her. _"Your destiny changed. You died. Grams and I are going to help you through this."_ I hear my own sob and then watch as I bury my face into my mother, grasping on to her with what little strength I have left.

The room shifts. It's still a blinding white light, but's changed. I recognize this. Not from my heavenly memories, but from when Andy came to see me as he died on the floor of the manor. I'm sitting on a swing that appears to float on its own. _"Prue?"_ I hear his voice echo. I turn and see him walking through the mist.

"_Andy?"_ My voice is sad, but hopeful. _"I didn't know you were here-"_

"_You're the last person I expected to find here._" Our voices overlap. There's a happy sadness to being reunited in the afterlife. I laugh uneasily. _"How'd it happen?"_ He questions, sitting down on the swing beside me, keeping his distance.

"_A demon,"_ I shrug and then look over at him. _"Same as you. Got knocked through something._"

"_But...you're a Charmed One..._"

"_I know. But that doesn't matter. We had another sister. She was given up for adoption. My sisters have found her. The new Power of Three."_ I can't tell what my tone is hinting at. Whether it's the sad realization that I had a sister and she was left out in the cold, or bitter because my sisters have gotten a replacement for me. I look up at Andy. _"So..what is there to do up here?_"

Andy chuckles. _"This. Sitting around, mostly. Some people manage to make it work. Me—I don't know. For a long time, watching over you was my only pass time. They pulled me back from doing that a couple of weeks ago."_ His gaze is cast downward. _"Now I know why."_

The air is awkward. This isn't how I would have expected being reunited with Andy. Before he died, I admitted how much I still loved him. He kissed me. I remember thinking that after we got rid of Rodriguez that we could maybe try to be together, even if he did want that normal life that really can't be with me. But he died. And he came to me right after he died. He promised me that he would always be there for me.

"_And what...did you see?"_ I can see the blush on my own cheeks. Andy gives a smile.

"_Everything."_ My embarrassment is evident. Up to that point, I dated a couple of other people, got a little crazy at times with my dates.

"_Truth is, you were it for me,"_ I admit to him, shyly bringing my eyes up to look at his. _"I know you were my soul mate. I was dead. When we were dealing with that ghost from Alcatraz. And you heard my call. Only soul mates can transcend life and death._" He smiles. I recognize that smile. That's Andy's smile when he's truly happy. _"There could never be another you. So the other guys...they were just experiments."_

"_I guess you were always meant to come back to me, then,_" Andy says.

I feel my heart's confliction. Not my heart in the memory, but my actual heart as I watch it back. Andy and I weren't together before he died. He didn't want the magic in his life. He wanted normalcy. Kids. Things that I wasn't sure I'd ever be comfortable having with all of the craziness in the world that I'd seen. Maybe that's why I dated Jack. Because I knew he would never be anything serious.

"_I guess so."_ There's a calm peace between myself and Andy, like we've accepted our fates.

The bright light returns, blocking out my view of our reunion. I see Andy and myself again, this time sitting near the edge of what looks like a pond. _"Look at Wyatt. He's so big. I can't believe he's eleven."_ I can see a sadness on my face. I'm watching my sisters live their lives without me. I haven't been able to go see them. Not like Mom and Grams. The Elders say I'm not ready yet. That it's still too fresh. I remember this. Over a decade has passed and the Elders still don't think I can handle seeing them. Part of me thinks it's because they think I'll do something crazy, like have my sisters resurrect me.

"_Do you ever regret that we didn't, you know?" _Andy nods his head toward the viewing pool.

I look at him and shake my head. _"We didn't have a chance. That wasn't in the cards for us."_

Andy picks at something on the ground, his eyes averted from mine. _"It was."_

I sense my own confusion. _"What?_" He looks up at me and shakes his head. _"No, Andy. What are you talking about?"_

He hesitates, only furthering my suspicions. _"Okay. The way time and destiny works. Things can change. Originally, we were supposed to have that future."_ I blink several times as I watch the conversation before me. I look over at the Angel of Destiny, who motions her head back toward them. I'm not sure if I want to know, even though I have a feeling what's about to be said. _"We were supposed to get married and have a family. A daughter._" I can see shock on my own face.

"Don't say-" The words come out, even though I know they can't hear me.

"_Her name was Peyton."_ My stomach drops. Peyton. Like my Peyton in the fake reality.

The past me is not looking at Andy. She's staring at the pool beneath them, eyes glazed over. _"So what happened?"_

"_Tempus intervened. Rodriguez should have died the first time. There should have never been a time loop. When that happened, it change my destiny. The Elders can explain it better. There are a lot of possibilities...it just depends on which events come to pass. Just like you saw yourself ten years in the future, when Phoebe killed that man and was burned at the stake. You were supposed to be there. Then something changed."_

"_And what was that?"_

Andy shakes his head. _"I don't know. That's something only you can ask the Elders about."_

The world fades into bright lights again. "Wait," I say. I feel the Angel of Destiny's hand on my forearm. I'd almost forgotten she was there. "No, I want to see what happens-"

"Patience," she says.

The world reforms. There are a group of people in gold hooded robes. I see the back of my head. It looks like a council meeting. _"Prudence Halliwell, we have asked you here today to take on a dangerous mission."_ The one who spoke, a woman, has pulled down her hood. She's middle aged with dark hair. She seems familiar. _"There is a child that we have protected since its birth. We have placed him with witches as a means of keeping him safe. He is old enough now to know he's different. The witch he has been with for the last year has been killed."_

"_By the child?"_ The Elder nods. I feel a bit of panic grip me. A child killed a witch.

"_What we propose is to send you back to Earth as his protector. Only, this time, we will wipe his memory, and yours. You will be his mother._" This can't be. Parker isn't mine? _"We will give you a new place to live, away from where he was born. You will not know your sisters. You will not know you are a witch."_

"_I-"_ I turn to look over my shoulder, and Andy is standing there, a sad look on his face. _"I want Andy with me."_

"_Prue-_" he protests, stepping forward. _"I just got my wings. My job is to protect the innocent, just like yours was. As a whitelighter._" Obviously it bothered me that Andy became a whitelighter.

"_Can I have a moment, please?"_ The elders turn their backs to Andy and myself. I look at him. _"You're leaving me. If I do this, then you're going to leave me and go be a whitelighter, and I can't-"_ I see tears threatening. _"I can't lose you again. I'll only do this if you'll go with me."_

Andy looks at me with adoration in his eyes, but also, hesitation. _"Prue, I want to, but-"_

"_Then it's settled."_ I turn back to the Elders. _"I have some conditions." _They look at me._ "First, Andy comes with me. As my husband."_

"_And?"_ A different Elder questions.

"_And you give us the daughter we were supposed to have. Peyton. I want the life you stole from me."_ I'm angry. I'm so angry that they're sending me back to protect another child, but wanting to send me alone.

"_We will consider your request,"_ one of them announces. Then they orb out, leaving Andy and I behind.

A smile is on my face as I turn toward him. _"We'll have that life. The one we were supposed to-" _Andy isn't as happy as I am. So I don't finish my sentence. _"You don't want to."_

"_To go back to being a mortal not knowing what I know now? About witches and magic? Not particularly. No."_

My arms cross over my chest. _"So you don't want to be with me?"_

His hands grasp my shoulders and he shakes his head. _"That's not it, Prue. You know that I lo-"_

"_You love me enough to go join the whitelighters and leave me up here while you go down there and do the thing that I was destined to do. The thing that kept us apart when we were alive."_ The happiness that I felt moments before has faded. _"**You** were the one who said he wanted a screaming kid and a normal life. We can have that now. No magic."_

"_Things have changed._"

"_Have they?"_

Andy drops his hands to his sides. _"It's not going to be us. Not the way we were. They'll take our memories. We won't remember anything from before."_

"_Is that such a bad thing, Andy? Is going back and having a normal life such a bad idea?_"

"_When it's not true, yeah._"

I don't understand why he's being like this. The me, right now, watching the events of the past, truly can't understand how the man that walked into that apartment in New York could not want to be with me. _Actually_ be with me. To have a life together. To have a family. No matter if it's false. I thought he was my soulmate. I thought he wanted to be with me, regardless of life and death.

I was wrong.

"I want to go back now," I say, turning my head away from the scene before me. I can piece the rest of it together. The Elders granted the request. We were sent to New York. The bright white fades and my kitchen reforms around me. My head is spinning. The Angel of Destiny is watching me carefully. "The child. My son—I mean, Parker. Why does he need protecting? What made him kill that witch?"

She considers her response before giving it to me. "It never worked out with any of the other witches because Parker didn't have any sort of connection to them. They were strangers, and he knew it. Wiping his memory and giving him to you as your son changed that. He was safe and sound."

"But?"

"But the damage had already been done. Before you became his guardian, he called upon his father to return to Earth."

My eyebrows furrow. "Wait, you said he didn't have a connection to them. Do you mean we have an actual connection, other than me being his fake mom? And who's his father?"

"This is highly sensitive information, Prue. Telling you could mean a lot of trouble." I'm concerned. Parker was a good kid. A little moody, sure, and the dreams he had were strange, but he and I bonded. He reminded me a lot of-

"Phoebe," I say, my eyes widening as I make the connection. "And Cole. He's my nephew." She nods.

"When he was conceived, Cole was the Source of All Evil. The Seer gave Phoebe tonics to use the child's magic and in essence turn her evil. The Seer stole the child from your sister's womb, claiming it was her child all along. But the Seer was destroyed."

"So how was the child born?" I question. This is so much information. Almost too much.

"People aren't born evil, Prue. They turn evil, based on the circumstances around them. The baby was not destroyed. We, as the Elders, are responsible for preserving magic-"

"Bad magic, too?"

"_Good _magic," she says. "And Phoebe is a great source of good. She always has been, even in her darkest days. We thought it best to preserve that. Give it a chance to thrive." The Elders were sneaky, sneaky people. How could they let my sister's child grow up away from their mother? Just like Paige growing up without her own family.

"So how did he summon Cole? And where _was_ Cole?"

"The child is in essence, the child of one of the greatest goods, a Charmed One, and the Source of All Evil. His magic runs deep and strong."

"So why not bind his magic like Grams did to us?" I know I have a lot of questions. I can see she doesn't want to answer them. But I have to know.

"We tried. He broke it. The witches he lived with tried everything they could. That's why he accidentally killed one of them. We couldn't bring him to the Charmed Ones, so we brought a Charmed One to him."

I run my hands over my face, unsure of where to go from here. "So where is he now? Parker?" My eyes catch a photo on the wall of all four of us, the family I thought I had. "And Peyton?"

"His father figured it out. Parker is now with Cole, in the underworld. It's the only place he can be. We can't track him," she replies. I look at her expectantly. She frowns. "Peyton never existed. It was merely an illusion." I push my chair back and stand, turning my back on the woman. My hand is covering my mouth as I look back at her.

"How _dare_ you," I say. "So the experiment failed and you take her away from me? I thought the agreement was so we could stay together-"

"You didn't see the verdict of your request of the Elders. A condition of keeping your daughter was maintaining secrecy. You were curious. You agreed to this."

"But I would never agree to have my daughter just so she could be taken away from me!" I protest. "And Andy? Has he just gone back to being a whitelighter?" I'm pacing now. I don't know how to feel about the man I thought was my husband. He wanted to leave the heavens to save people. While noble, that meant he was leaving me. He didn't want to come here with me. He didn't want to be with me before he died.

Everything that I thought I knew about our love was a lie.

When I turn back to the Angel of Destiny, she's gone, my lost cell phone sitting on the table.


	8. Chapter Eight

"Prue..."

I hear a soft voice in the darkness. The room is cold. My eyes are heavy as I try to blink them open. Slowly, the light filters in and I see the person sitting on the edge of my bed, brushing my hair out of my face. My vision focuses and there's Piper, looking down at me with her forehead crinkled in concern. She reaches her hand down toward me and grabs the empty, cold bottle out of my hands. That's how I feel right now. Cold. Empty. Alone.

Through my hazy memory, I remember calling the police department and being told there was no Andy Trudeau working there. I remember calling the number I had for his cell and getting no answer. My throat is raspy, reminding me that I screamed and screamed for hours into the night, demanding he come home, demanding the Elders bring my family back. I found the whisky and decided to drink my pain away, or at least numb it to where it wasn't so bad. I can feel the salt on my cheeks from crying. My eyes must be red. My head aches.

"Prue," Piper repeats. I blink and look over at her. "What happened?"

I croak as I try to speak. My sister offers a glass of water and I take it, the coolness of the liquid soothing my throat. "They took them," I say, feeling the hot tears sting my eyes once more. "They took my family." You would think I'd be cried out by now, but I'm not. Instead, I'm sobbing uncontrollably. Piper reaches out to me in an act of sisterly kindness. I shove her away and pull the blankets back roughly, as my plan is to climb over to the other side of the bed, Andy's side.

"Prue." My sister's tone is harder. Her hand grips at my wrist and I look at her, anger filling me. I know the anger is misplaced, but she's getting in my way.

"Let me go," I demand. I can see that she's shocked by my behavior. But I don't care. What I need right now is Andy, Peyton. Not some reunion with Piper full of tears and happiness. I'm so devastated right now that I'm not thinking clearly.

"Phoebe! Get the potion!" Piper calls toward the door. I glare at her. "We're going to give you something to sleep."

"Don't you dare." My voice is low and threatening. "Don't you dare try to numb my pain. You think you can come in here and magically take it all away-"

"No, I don't," she says simply, her voice much more gentle. "But you need to rest. When you wake up, you'll be able to think more clearly." I stare at her for a long moment. Long enough for Phoebe to come in. Her reaction to seeing me is enough to tell me that I look like a wild animal. Piper hands me the vial of potion and I glare into it as I give in to their request. I fold back into the pillows. Phoebe crosses to Andy's side of the bed and each of my sisters take a hand. I look over at my baby sister, who gives a gentle smile as she strokes my hair.

As the potion begins to take over, I think of how much Parker looks like Phoebe. Then I fade into blackness. No dreams haunt me this time.

–

When I wake again, my head doesn't feel so foggy. The room around me is dark, but I see faint light coming from the hallway. I smell coffee. I throw back the covers and put my feet onto the warm wood floor. I grab my robe and tuck it around my shoulders, walking slowly down the hall. I hear voices downstairs. One female, one male. "Andy?" I question in confusion, my heart skipping a beat. My pace quickens as I walk down the stairs and round the corner into the kitchen. I stop, my heart dropping, the frown forming across my face.

Phoebe looks up. "Hey," she says with a smile. The dark haired man sitting at the table with her turns and gives a friendly smile. I recognize him.

"Coop?" I question. I remember him. My sister is visibly confused as she looks between me and the cupid.

"Hi Prue," he says, with a nod. "Good to see you again."

"How...do you know each other?" Phoebe questions. Coop smiles a mischievous smile.

"High school," I answer, looking at my sister. "Coop transferred in senior year. He was pretty much the reason that Andy and I dated-" I see a grin cross Phoebe's face, mirroring the one on Coop's. "What?" I question, cocking an eyebrow.

"Coop's a cupid," Phoebe says simply.

My face relaxes. "Well, that explains a lot." I glance around the kitchen, the room that held laughter with my daughter, loving kisses from the formerly spoken of Andy. I pick my head up and bring my eyes to Coop, an expectant look on my face.

He frowns. "I'm sorry, Prue," he says. "I wish I could give you answers in what's going on with...that."

"But you can't," I say, shaking my head as my eyes fill with tears again. I run a hand through my hair, gripping at it because this doesn't seem real. He frowns. "It's okay," I say.

Coop and Phoebe speak in hushed voices as I turn toward the coffee pot and fix myself a cup. "Prue," Phoebe says. I stir in sugar and cream, but don't look up at her. She touches my elbow as I rigorously stir the coffee, accidentally spilling some of it on the counter beside it. I look up and find that Coop is gone. He's a cupid. So _he_ was the reason that Andy and I got together in high school. Cupids are supposed to give a push to those that are compatible.

But I know, no matter how long I live, Andy Trudeau is more than someone a cupid set me up with. He's my soul mate. I knew it before I died, and the truth remains the same. But it doesn't change the fact that he didn't want to come with me on this mission, and that he's gone now. "Hey," Phoebe says, brushing the hair out of my face and placing her hand on my coffee cup. "Let me get this for you. Why don't you go sit in the living room? Are you hungry?" I release my grip on the cup and spoon, relenting for the moment to let my younger sister take care of me.

"No," I say calmly, walking toward the door that leads to the living room. "Thank you," I add over my shoulder. My attitude sucks, I recognize that. I don't want to push Phoebe away. Not now that I've finally gotten her back. I cross into the living room, my eyes taking in the pictures on the walls. They've changed. Parker and Peyton have disappeared from the photos. The Elders couldn't even leave a small reminder of this beautiful life? I see a bracelet with beads sitting on the coffee table and find the tears in my eyes again. Will it ever get better?

Phoebe comes in, carrying two mugs and sets them down on the coffee table. I reach for the bracelet and slip it over my wrist, then tuck my hands into my robe and grab the hot mug, blowing on it. I can feel my sister's eyes on me, but I don't look at her. I don't know that I can keep it together. I'm not used to this. I'm the strong one. The one who doesn't break down when things get tough. "Talk to me," she presses.

My head shakes and I sip slowly at the coffee. I hear Phoebe sigh and she takes the mug from my hands, placing it back on the table in front of us. "Prue, a lot has changed in the thirteen years since you died. You don't have to be strong. You can break down and...and be pissed off at the Elders for what they've done to you. It's okay." She takes my hands into hers and dips her head down, pulling my eyes into hers. The eyes of her son. "Don't shut me out. You need me, and Piper, and even Paige. We're family, and we're going to help you get through this."

I feel the emotions bubbling to the surface. My shoulders hunch. "They took them," I whisper, my eyes widening with tears. "They took my family. I wish I hadn't pushed the issue. I wish I could have just accepted the fake life. At least they would still be here-"

"Let's talk about what happened," Phoebe said, brushing a thumb over the top of my right hand.

"It hurts too much," I whisper, shaking my head as my eyes look at our hands.

"You don't have to carry this burden alone."

I look up at Phoebe. She's grown so much. I see wisdom in her eyes, patience in her smile. She's right. I don't have to carry it alone. When did my baby sister grow up? It feels like yesterday we were fighting over trivial things like clothes. "Okay," I say, giving her hand a squeeze. That's when I start pouring it all out, starting with the day that Parker pushed Peyton and I had to heal her up. As I retell the story, the hints of my being a witch stick out. The fact that I had homemade remedies to heal those things. The power inside of me that I felt. How Peyton unintentionally hurt that kid at school. My tone changes, grows darker, as I get into meeting with Darryl, getting my memories back from before I died at Andy's grave, reuniting with my sisters at the manor.

"I freaked out," I say gently, shaking my head. "With Paige. I feel so bad. She must hate me."

Phoebe shakes her head. "She doesn't. She understands that you're confused. We weren't so different when we first found out."

"I thought I was angry, at first, finding out that we had another sister. But, really, I feel so terrible. Because had I known, I wouldn't have let her grow up without her family, without her sisters-" Phoebe nods in understanding. "I was losing my mind. I just had to get out of there. I'd like to see her, eventually, and at least apologize. I came home, remembering that I promised Peyton I would be here when she got home, because I didn't see her off to the bus. I had problems getting in touch with Andy. My cell phone disappeared, and when I got here-" I bring my eyes up to the doorway that leads to the kitchen. "-the house empty. The phone was dead. I was greeted by an Angel of Destiny."

Phoebe's expression darkened. "They're always meddling, aren't they?" she questions. I nodded, remembering how the Elders liked to get involved in mortal matters. "Angels of Destiny are just souped up Elders." My sister chuckles.

"So, my entire life here was a lie. My children weren't my children. They never existed," I explain. "She gave me a potion that took me back through my memories. Not all of them, mind you, but a few from when I was dead." I smile at her. "I fought Mom and Grams to try and get back to you after I died. Then I reunited with Andy. We found some semblance of a life up there." I shake my head. "But it wasn't real. It couldn't be real. We were spirits. You can't have a life or romance in heaven. That's not how it works. Andy went to be a whitelighter, right around the time the Elders asked for me to take a mission to protect-" I stop, my eyes widening as the realization comes over me. Phoebe doesn't know about Parker.

"Protect what?" Phoebe asks.

I shake my head, unsure of if I should tell her. "There's a boy. He's got a very strong magic. He needed protection from a great evil." I shrug. "That was my Parker. I sensed that there was something about him that was...different. Peyton-" My voice catches. I see compassion in Phoebe, something that when she was younger, I never even thought I could see in her. "Peyton was my baby." My eyes are filled with tears, my voice muffled by emotion. "She was a mini-me. But her expression were just like Andy. I-" I take a deep breath. "When Andy and I were in heaven, he told me that we were destined to be together, to have a daughter, before he died.

"But his destiny changed, and so did mine. We didn't have a chance," I explain. "I knew back then, even, that I wouldn't find another love like Andy. He was my soul mate." I smile. "Do you remember when we went to Alcatraz and that ghost followed us? When I took that potion to cast the spell on him? You were knocked out, but Andy came in. He tried to give me CPR when I was in my ghost form. The spirit came after him and I cried out for him to look out-" The emotion is heavy in my voice as I speak. "He heard me. I saved him. What other explanation is there other than being soulmates?"

"So where is now?"

I wipe at my cheeks and shake my head. "The Angel of Destiny disappeared without answering that question. Apparently things have gone back to the way they were before we were brought here. The police department says they don't have any Andy Trudeau working for them. His cellphone is disconnected." I grab my coffee and take a sip, enjoying the way it rolls down my throat and warms my belly. "I just don't get it. If they took Peyton and Andy away, why am I still here?"

"Maybe they still want you to protect Parker?" Phoebe suggests. I look at her and nod.

"Maybe," I answer. I don't like not telling her about her son. It's not fair to her. But I can't find the words to explain it. Phoebe makes sense. The Elders have taken Andy, but left me here, like the original plan. They must feel like my emotions with Andy and Peyton are a distraction. That my mission remains even though the agreement has changed. It's not fair. But I know that I have to do everything in my power to protect Parker. He may not be my son, but he's family. I need to find him. "Phoebe," I look up at her. "How did you and Piper find me?"

"Scrying," she says, shaking her head in question. That won't work. According to the Elders, Parker is in the underworld.

"The Elders believe that Parker is in the underworld with his—father," I say carefully. My mind goes through the numerous spells and potions, but I can't think of exactly what we can do from up here to find him. Then it hits me. "My astral projection. I can project down there. Maybe if I do the lost witch spell, I can locate him while I'm down there."

"Prue, I don't know that that's the best idea," Phoebe warns.

"They can't hurt me in my astral form. I can go down there, cast the spell, look around. I just need some practice, and someone to make sure that my body is protected." I stand up from the couch, ready to spring into action. The main door to the house opens and Piper walks in. "Hi," I say, sighing happily to see her. We embrace quickly. "I'm sorry about freaking out on you."

"Just don't do it again," Piper said, smiling. "You okay?"

I nod. "Better." I look over at Phoebe and give her a smile, thankful that she made me sit down and talk it all out. She returns the smile, but I see worry creasing her forehead. I pull Piper toward the couch. "So, I was sent here to protect a magic child. The demon who fathered him has taken him, brought him to the underworld. I want to-"

"She wants to use her astral projection and cast the to find a lost witch spell," Phoebe said, irritated. Piper looked between us.

"I need more details than that," she says. So I explain, leaving out most of the details of the life before I remembered my past. We need to get this going. I haven't even tested my powers to make sure that they're all there. Piper is quiet for a minute, her eyes low to the floor. "So...am I completely nuts?"

"No," she answers, finally. "I think it's a good idea."

"Piper," Phoebe warns.

"What? She was sent her for a reason. To protect this boy. I'm certain she feels a motherly need to do just that," Piper said. I nod. Even though I know that Parker was never mine, I can't help but feel the need to protect him. My sister's eyes look about the room. "I want you to move into the manor." I furrow my eyebrows.

"What?"

"This place is toxic to you, given what you've been through," she says, that tone on the edge of her voice that isn't giving much allowance for argument. "You need a better environment."

"And where am I going to stay? You've got a full house," I respond.

"I'm sure we can cast a little magic and charm a closet into a room-"

"If that isn't for personal gain, I don't know what is." I stand up, looking about the room. I know Piper is right. Since when did my younger sisters get so wise, so smart? I was the one who led discussions and decisions. Not the other way around. Looking around the room with the empty picture frames, I know that I need to get away from the sadness here if I want to accomplish anything. "Fine, but no magic for personal gain. I'll stay in the attic until we get this sorted out."

–

I push open the door to the attic, armed with a couple of bags of stuff. I drop them heavily near the door and look about the room. Footsteps behind me signal Piper. "We still have some of your stuff boxed up," she says quietly, leaning against the door frame. I shrug. Material items aren't important. If there's one thing dying teaches you, it's that shallow things don't matter.

"Thanks," I say, walking toward the stained glass window at the front of the house. I start to move the blankets and boxes covering the day bed that's always been up here. I hear more footsteps and in runs a boy with blonde hair and Leo's eyes. My breath catches. I remember seeing him as Andy and I overlooked his life from above. "Wyatt." The boy stops, studying me carefully.

"Aunt Prue?" He questions, looking up at his mother. Piper ruffles his hair and nods. I smile. I cross to Wyatt and give him a hug.

"Hey bud," I say. "I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to meet you yet."

"How are you here?"

I smile. "Long story, but it doesn't matter." He casts his eyes around the attic.

"So, are you moving in?" I chuckle at his question and nod. Maybe being back in the manor won't be so bad. It's nice to be surrounded by family.

–

"Agh!" I shout, throwing my hand up and causing an old lamp to fly off of a dresser on the other side of the attic. I close my eyes and ball my hands into fists. "This is frustrating!" I look up at Piper, who has her arms crossed over her chest and is quirking an eyebrow at me. "What?! It won't work!"

"Not while you're angry," Piper said, her voice even. "Remember that whole finding triggers for our powers?" I nod. "Anger was the trigger for your telekinesis. The astral projection was different for you. We learned how to do it with spells, from Leo. But you- Do you remember the first time you ever used it?"

I try to think back, to remember. It was so long ago and yet it felt like no time had passed at all. Then it clicks. "Jack," I say, looking up at Piper. "I was in a meeting with Jack and you were trying to get me to come out. I was conflicted between staying where I was and going to you and I did it involuntarily."

"Good, that's good," Piper said. "So think of Parker, try to imagine him. Maybe think of splitting yourself?" I nod. Piper is doing the best that she can, but she wasn't naturally gifted with the power. But I'll try.

I lean back on the day bed, my hands gripping onto the quilt as I focus on splitting my consciousness, practically thinking of it in dark terms, like ripping it away. I focus on Parker, on the underworld, and I feel a separation coming. I feel lighter, like my soul is going away from my body. The world materializes around me and I see a dark, stony tunnel. I hear the scattering of feet, sounding like mice scurrying across the floor. But then voices follow. I duck in between two large stones and try to hide as the demons walk past.

"What's all this mess about a new source? He's a boy!" One whines.

"Belthazar will make it so," the other replies.

"I don't think this boy knows anything of our kind. Word is he was being protected by a _Charmed One._" The man uses a mocking tone.

"You heard that, too did ya?" the second one questions. "That Prue Halliwell is back from the dead?"

"Yeah. That's why I want to be as far away from here as possible. The Power of Three was bad enough, but now the Power of Four?" Their voices fade away in the distance and I reach into my pocket and pull out the spell. I have a mixture of the ingredients needed and then begin to chant.

"Power of the witches rise, course unseen across the skies, come to use who call you near, come to us and settle here," I say, then prick my finger on a needle. I drop the blood into the mixture. "Blood to blood, I summon thee. Blood to blood, return to me." A small ball of light comes up from the ingredients mixed with my blood. It levitates in front of me and then starts off in the opposite direction of the demons. I tuck everything into my pocket and follow it, trying to keep in the shadows and duck behind things as much as possible.

Even in my astral form, I can feel my heart beating in my chest, a sign that I'm still connected to my physical form back in the manor. I hate the underworld. This place is dark and gives me the creeps, to be frank. But I press forward. I focus on Parker, on the boy who came to me with fear in his eyes when he told me that my sisters needed me, on the son who smiled back at me when he realized there was a yard with our new house in the suburbs of San Francisco.

I can almost sense him as the light floats through an entryway and then extinguishes. I pause before the entry way, my senses heightened as I search for any sign of him with my own soul. I sense his presence, I can't explain it. But I do.

"You have to focus!" A voice says. I force my eyes open. I recognize that voice.

"I am!"

"Parker," I exhale.

"No, you're not. You need to focus your energy. I want you to blow up that rock with your mind." Cole Turner. That demon. I always knew he was bad news. But no one ever listened to me. And the tone he's taking with my son—Well, not my son, but he's as good as mine—I can't let him talk to Parker like that. Parker is sensitive. He needs someone to teach him, not bark orders at him.

So instead of being careful and calling for my sisters to tell them where Parker is, I charge forward, through the entryway. The cavern is large and brilliantly lit. Cole's eyes turn toward me. But I focus on the boy who looks scared. His eyes widen as he recognizes me. "Mom!" Parker cries out. I feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. He starts toward me, but I see Cole raise a hand, then Parker's eyes close and he crumbles to the stony ground.

"No!" I shout and then run over to him. I cradle his head into my lap, shaking my head. "What did you do to him?" I question angrily, looking up at the man who snuck his way into my family all of those years ago. "What did you _do?_"

"Chill out, Prudence, don't get your panties in a wad," Cole replies cooly, tugging and smoothing his jacket. I press my lips against Parker's forehead.

"I will come for you. I will save you. I promise," I whisper, forcing the tears back. I stand, ready to fight.

"Ah...it appears the eldest Halliwell remembers me this time," he says, an almost amused expression on his face.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance, Turner," I spit out at him.

"And...what is this? I _don't_ have a chance now?"

A grin crosses my face. "Nope," I reply. I know that I can't use my telekinesis in my astral form. But that doesn't mean that I can't fight him physically. I remember before. It took time for my astral form to become more solid, but as the motherly instincts take over, the fact that I need to protect what is mine, I feel my form becoming more stout in this realm. "Go ahead. Try your best." I jut my chin out defiantly.

The energy ball forms in his hand quickly and then he shoots it at me. I feel the electrical shock as it passes through my midsection. Cole growls. "You're in your astral form. What? Scared to actually fight me?"

I shake my head. "I may have been dead, but that doesn't change how much I _never_ liked you. I'll vanquish you. I promise, I will."

"Been there, done that, came back multiple times," Cole said. "But you wouldn't know that. Because you were dead. Because of a demon."

"All the more reason to take out my anger on you. Demon." I'm growing tired of this sparring match. I know that now that Cole knows I know where he is, he'll move Parker. But the fact that the spell worked quickly gives me hope. I look down at the bracelet on my wrist. Peyton's bracelet. I kneel down in front of Parker, my back to Cole and slip it from my astral wrist onto his own, leaning down as though I'm whispering something to him.

"Get away from my son," Cole says behind me.

"Keep this bracelet. It's Peyton's. I'll find you." I brush the hair from his face, then stand up to my full height. "Your son, huh?" I question. "Funny how the Elders kept your son away from you. I'm more of a parent to him than you'll ever be. I _will_ come for him. And when I do, I'm getting rid of you once and for all."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"_Prue?"_ I hear a voice in the background. I glance around the cavern, but realize it was in my head. Someone's calling me back to my body.

"Just wait, Turner," I say in parting and then close my eyes, willing my soul back to my body. I sit up suddenly, gasping for air. I feel a heaviness in my shoulders as I slump backward.

"Are you okay?" I look up to find the source of the voice who brought me back. Paige.

"Hi," I say, pushing myself to sit up once more. The exhaustion rings through me. "I'm okay. How long was I down?"

Paige shrugs. "I've been here about fifteen minutes. Piper didn't say how long you were out before I got here." I nod. An awkward silence falls over us. I stare ahead, unsure of what I'm supposed to say. "I know this is weird." I look over at Paige, seeing a vulnerability in her eyes that I recognize.

"No. No, it's not weird," I say, pushing myself to the edge of the day bed. "It's just...unexpected. I didn't know-"

"It's okay," Paige says.

"No, it's not," I respond, standing shakily from the bed. I'm so tired. Using my astral projection has taken a lot out of me. "I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at Mom and Grams for—for keeping you from us. You deserved the same upbringing that we had."

"I had great adoptive parents," she says. "If that's any consolation. They were amazing. So I wasn't left out in the cold, if that's what you're thinking."

I feel some relief at her words, but it doesn't change my guilt. "If I had known-"

"I know," she says. The room spins a bit. "Are you okay?" I lean back against the day bed.

"Just a little woozy," I mention, my eyes closing as I rub at my temples. "It takes time to get back into it. I just didn't expect it to drain so much out of me." When I open my eyes, look down at my bare wrist, a smile forms on my face. I was able to give Parker the bracelet in my astral form. I can use it to track him.

"What?" Paige asks. I look up at the youngest Halliwell sister, smiling through my exhaustion.

"We're going to save him. Parker. But, first, I need to know how you all vanquished a demon," I say, thinking over my knowledge of the Book of Shadows.

"Which one?"

"Cole Turner." I see the color drain from Paige's face. This is information I haven't given to my sisters yet. But the time is now. They have to know what I'm up to if we plan on saving Parker and getting rid of the evil that conceived him.

–

A/N: I know I am way overdue for an update, and this one was mostly drawn out to get the action rolling. Thanks to everyone that has stuck with the story so far! I'll update as soon as I can. :)


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